


Draoicht

by bedb



Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: Arthur doesn't trust Merlin or Lancelot, F/M, Lancelot is lonely, Lancelot wants to prove he's changed, Merlin needs Lancelot and Nimwue, Nimue and Lancelot have magical sex., Slow Burn, Squirrel misses his older friend, Violence, ancient Irish gods, the Dagda cauldron
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 41
Words: 90,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26663650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedb/pseuds/bedb
Summary: Winter is coming and the fey are starving. Merlin wants to go to Ireland and search for the legendary Cauldron of Dagda, but the sidhe of Ireland might not welcome him there. He needs the help of Nimue and Lancelot to pull this off.
Relationships: Nimue/The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed)
Comments: 152
Kudos: 153





	1. Merlin's plan

**Author's Note:**

> I discontinued one of my cross over stories, but with Cursed using so many Irish legends and myths to fill out its plot, I could not help but see it continuing in another form. All the magical beings from Ireland are real.

Winter was going to be hard, and there were going to be troubles with the humans, Nimue could see it happening. At least the Red Paladins and Trinity Guard would not be out and about, although Lancelot, out there alone, was keeping them in check. She had been told that just the sight of a hooded man on a horse sent them scurrying for home. She knew he was out there, still alive, because sometimes she would rise in the morning and find a deer carcass waiting for her. Squirrel missed his dangerous friend, but there was no way the fey would welcome him into their camp. He was still hated by many of them, and no amount of venison could expunge the name of the Weeping Monk. Arthur continued to be her strong right arm, but she found herself thinking more and more about the man in the forest.

Merlin was another occasional visitor, and he was a welcomed sight late one dreary afternoon. Now that he had his powers back, he fairly crackled with energy. Nimue still missed not having the sword anymore. But with Uther and Red Spear keeping them safe militarily and Lancelot out there, she didn’t really need it.

Observing how lean the evening meal was, Merlin casually remarked, “If we had the Dagda’s cauldron, no one would ever go hungry.”

“Where is this cauldron?” Nimue asked, a heavy lambskin coat protecting her from the cold mist rolling in from off the shore.

“Lost, I fear,” he sighed heavily. “When magic left the land, all the great treasures of the Danann went with it.”

Arthur, listening in, replied, “You’re powerful.”

“I am one man and my powers are not quite domestic.”

Arthur, tired of being cold and hungry, said, “It’s too bad you can’t find it. People are going to be real hungry before winter is over.” Needing to get out of the cold, he wandered off to the shelter he shared with Nimue and several others. No privacy to woo her.

The night was bitterly cold and the children slept with their parents. Nimue had Squirrel under the covers with her. Merlin laid himself on the other side of the boy Arthur’s words humming in his ears. “You are powerful…..can’t find it….can’t find it.” He went to sleep with that echoing in his head.

The next day he called in some favors to find the Dagda’s cauldron. And someone actually knew something. Apparently the last time the cauldron had been seen was at Slaine’s Well during the first war with mankind after their arrival in Ireland. When the fey lost Terrytown, the cauldron was also lost.

Ireland. Merlin hadn’t been back to Ireland in centuries. Too many painful memories from another life. But he had to go back if he was going to find the cauldron. And he knew exactly who he was going to take with him.

“Nimue,” he greeted his daughter upon her appearing the next morning. “We have to go to Ireland, and we need to bring Lancelot with us.”

Arthur immediately went on the defensive. “I’ll go.”

“You are mortal. I need someone with connections to the sidhe.”

“Connections?” Nimue asked curiously.

“Your protector out there is almost pure sidhe,” Merlin answered readily. “Carden found him in Scotland. He’s Ash folk, but there has to be something else in him…old sidhe.”

Arthur was not interested in Lancelot’ pedigree. He was interested in him not being alone with Nimue. “You might need my sword,” Arthur offered quickly. “I’ll not be left behind.”

Merlin stared at the young mortal for one long minute before turning to his daughter and asking, “Do you have a way to contact him?” 

“I only tried once,” Nimue answered, surprising Arthur.

“You can contact him by magic?”

“I only did it once,” she repeated. “I need to sit down to do this.”

They returned to their shelter and got a stool out for her to sit on. A small bowl of dirt was handed to her after she requested it. Putting her hand in it, she thought had about Lancelot. In less than a minute he stood before her. She could tell that Merlin could see him but not Arthur who frowned hard when Nimue greeted Lancelot. 

"Lancelot."

“My lady,” he replied so softly that she almost didn’t hear him. But she felt his words deep in her body. They touched parts of her that had never seen the light of day. 

“We need you,” she explained.

“I will be there before the day is over,” he replied and turned away, their connection breaking.

“Didn’t take much convincing,” Merlin said, impressed by their connection. No telling what they could do if they were really united.

“He’s coming?” Arthur asked with less enthusiasm.

“He’ll be here by the end of the day,” Nimue replied.

She tried to keep herself busy without constantly looking towards the north. She had not been there when the fey decided against letting him stay. Arthur said he had been beat pretty bad but no one wanted to help him. He just dropped Squirrel off and rode away.

That part bothered her the most. She didn’t know what she would have done had she been there, but turning a broken man away was not it…at least she hoped she would have had more compassion. Their first connection was made by accident, her thinking hard about him when she was pulling some healing herbs with Pym. He suddenly appeared before her. He had been as surprised as she, not to mention Pym who had thought he was actually there. This was when she learned how he was helping the fey, protecting them from the Paladins and Guards. She also saw how starved he was for affection; anything that said, “I care for you.” That simple act of kindness meant the world to him.

What she remembered of him was tainted by fear. Now he was helping them, keeping an eye out for people who would hurt them. This would be her first real meeting with the man Squirrel called Lancelot. The children were the first ones to spy him riding slowly towards the camp, a pair of fat does across his flat pommel. 

Fresh meat was always welcomed and the venison was taken off his hands. “Bringing gifts?” Arthur asked as the man he knew as the Weeping Monk climbed out of the saddle. Nimue could finally see how tall he was.

“I thought they might like some fresh meat,” Lancelot replied, his voice a very masculine whisper. He turned to look at Nimue.

“That means a lot to them,” Nimue said and wished Merlin would hurry up and get here. “I hope you are well.”

“Better than I deserve,” Lancelot replied and was suddenly attacked by Squirrel. Nimue could not help but smile as Squirrel did a quick cursory examination of his friend.

“Are you better now?” he asked seriously.

“Much better,” Lancelot answered and tapped his side. “See, nothing broken.”

“You must be tired, come rest,” Nimue offered. “Squirrel, take care of your friend’s horse.” She also sent one of the other boys to find Merlin. Lancelot seemed a little shy at the curious eyes staring at him, but he followed her obediently. Something about that thought bothered her. Arthur stayed at her side all the way to the hut. Was he acting jealous? 

Inside the hut they took seats on sheep skins and old blankets while a nice fire kept the hut warm. Lancelot warming up removed his hood and cape. In the enclosed space the firelight threw golden shadows on the walls and on people’s faces. Nimwue could not help but admire both of the men sitting with her. She glanced at Arthur and he smiled awkwardly at her. Lancelot would not look up.

“So,” Arthur began awkwardly, “have you been staying warm at night?” He inwardly groaned but it was too late to take the question back.

“Warm enough,” Lancelot replied and raised his head enough to meet Arthur’s gaze. “And you?”

Arthur hesitated. “I’ve been fine, actually, thank you.”

“Do you get enough to eat?” Nimue asked. 

“Well enough,” he answered, his voice sending another thrill through her body. For a moment their eyes met and Nimue realized she had felt his power before, at the abbey. He lowered his gaze before Arthur noticed.

Nimue sighed and then looked up when Merlin finally appeared. “Good, you found him,” the druid said and sat beside him. “How are you?” Merlin asked, truly grateful Carden’s attack dog had decided to grace them with his presence, although the younger fey was not exactly in attack dog mode. He didn’t look well.

“You sent for me?”

“Yes. I need you to go to Ireland with me and Nimwue,” Merlin answered enthusiastically.

“And me,” Arthur remind him. Why was Merlin trying to leave him behind?

“And Arthur,” Merlin added. “But I need you because I’m not exactly on good terms with everyone over there, and we need to find Dagda’s cauldron. And there are a few other artifacts we could use if we stumble upon them.”

“What do you need Nimue for?” Arthur asked suspiciously. If she didn’t have to leave, he wanted her to stay here. Catching her disapproving glance, he added, “I’m only thinking of your safety.”

Nimue ignored him. Sometimes his constant worrying about her ‘safety’ got a bit tedious. “Who in Ireland can we expect to run into?”

“I don’t know. With good fortune they will ignore us, but I don’t think we’ll get that lucky.”

Lancelot finally spoke. “When do we leave?”

“In the morning. Red Spear will take us over personally.”  
“And what does she want out of this?” Arthur asked suspiciously. He liked Red Spear, but since becoming more than just an ally with Uther Pendragon, she started ‘requesting’ payment for protection and services rendered.

Merlin hesitated a moment and then said, “When the time comes, the use of the sword.”

Nimue looked stunned. “You don’t know if she’ll even give it back!”

“She will,” he assured his daughter. “I suggest you all bundle up and get some sleep.”

“Where are you going?” Nimue asked suspiciously.

“I…uh…will be staying at the castle. In my old room,” Merlin answered with a wicked smile. “I’ll be back in time for breakfast, which will be on me.” He turned and slipped out of the lodge. Lancelot started to get up and follow but Nimue stopped him.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I have a camp,” he answered but sat back down.

“It’s warm in here, and we have room, plus Squirrel will want to follow you.”

Lancelot stayed put until Squirrel arrived and barreled into him. The boy was thrilled that his older friend was going to spend the night with them, and Nimwue couldn’t help but grin when she finally got to see the beauty of Lancelot’s smile. Squirrel brought out Lancelot's humanity, something she wished she could do.

When one of the cooks brought them a piece of backstrap, already cut up and in a wooden bowl with a few roasted turnips and onions, Squirrel dug in. Fresh meat was becoming a rarity as the deer moved to warmer regions. And with their own livestock stolen by the Paladins, there was nothing much they could do about it.

Lancelot let Squirrel snuggle with him, and it made the former assassin feel loved for the first time in a long while, but after everyone fell asleep, he got up and left the lodge, his boots making hardly a sound on the packed earth. Finding his horse, he stroked its strong warm neck and then saddled him. Pulling himself up, he rode off in the direction of a Paladin camp. 

The cold and damp night air wrapped itself around him with its chilly breath. When he reached the camp, he reined up and looked it over. Everything was quiet. He knew he couldn’t take anything big that they could follow, but something small maybe. Nothing that would make a lot of noise. However there was one solution, he could turn them all loose and take what he wanted, a cow with a nursing calf. 

He was interrupted by a terrified brother who froze in horror when he realized who was turning the cattle loose. Compassion was for fools, so Lancelot killed the man and marked his forehead with something he had seen once, the Celtic cross, in blood. The other brothers would be afraid to enter the wood after their missing cattle. Plus it gave Abbot Wicklow something else to worry about. 

Merlin could not believe Lancelot had ridden off during the night. “What did you say to him?” he asked Arthur who had to be behind this with his jealous displays. Why not just rub Lancelot’s face in it while he was at it. “Because we can’t leave without him.”

“Why is he so fucking important?” Arthur demanded angrily.

“Because his blood traces back to Ireland. They will sense the connection and hopefully not take our heads.”

“I thought all fey were brethrens,” Arthur shot back at him.

“You’ve never been to Ireland, have you?” Merlin snapped back sarcastically.

Nimue, finding it hard to believe that Lancelot would just sneak off after saying he would help them, took a deep breath and looked towards the road leading out of camp. Her eyes lit upon a dark figure riding towards them leading a cow by a rope with a large calf following. Where had he gone to find a cow and calf?

She ran to intercept him along with a dozen fey. He handed the cow’s lead to a gaping mouthed man and stepped off his horse. “Where?” was all she could ask.

He smiled and replied, “The Paladins will be short one milk cow.”

Arthur joined them and snapped, “Won’t they come looking for the cow and with us leaving?”

“Excellent point,” Merlin concurred. “You need to stay here and protect them.”

“What? Wait….no!”

“It’s what must be done,” Merlin said and eyed the cud chewing cow. Morrigan never looked lovelier. He immediately regretted the irreverent thought. “Come. Our ship awaits. Nimue and I already have our horses aboard. Someone needs to get Arthur’s horse off the ship.”

Arthur hated all of them at that moment. Grabbing Lancelot by the arm, he stopped him and said, “You had better not hurt her.” When the fey warrior said nothing back, he released his arm and stepped aside. People were watching.

Lancelot hesitated a moment and gazed back at Arthur. “I won’t hurt her,” he finally said.

Arthur kept his response to himself as he watched the fey warrior lead his horse on the ship. Arthur wasn’t afraid of Lancelot hurting Nimue; there was something much worse clawing at his thoughts.


	2. Dublin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin embarks on the first leg of his quest to get the Cauldron of Dagda, a voyage to Dublin. Nimue and Lancelot learn that there are spies for the old ones everywhere.
> 
> Merlin uses magic to help Nimue and Lancelot understand the old language. And they hear the story about the death of Cuchulainn in an Irish pub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin likes shepherd's pie, but back then there were no mashed potatoes. Some other vegetable or maybe oatmeal formed the crust.
> 
> Poet story tellers were the real starts of Irish pubs. Accompanied by a harp they could recite the legends for hours and no one tire of it.
> 
> Ratings are subject to change as are warnings.

Merlin almost said he loved the wind in his hair, but he caught himself and smiled. The Red Spear’s transport ship was larger than her raiding vessel but it was just as sleek and fast, skimming over the water like a bird on their way to Dublin, the Norse capital of Ireland. Nimue and Lancelot were forward literally letting the wind dance with their hair. It was nice to see his daughter laughing as she tried to keep her long chestnut hair under control, or Lancelot’s smile as he leaned against the rail and gazed out at the rolling sea.

“Blackfish!” the look out called and pointed.

Merlin joined Nimue and Lancelot at the rail to see the small whales rise and ride the ship’s wake. They didn’t stay long, but for a moment Merlin let his mind wander back to another time. Were there any selkies about? Or uilbheasts! Wouldn’t it be wonderful to show Nimue a two headed sea dragon? What would Lancelot do if such a beast rose out of the depths?

“I’ve been gone too long,” he sighed and gazed up at a flock of gulls chasing small bait fish at the water’s surface. They would fold their wings and fall into the churning water rising moments later with a small wriggling fish in its beak. 

Red Spear joined them. “We’ll be in Dublin within the hour,” she said, the glow in her eyes showing how much she loved the sea.

“Aegir has been good to us on this trip,” she said and leaned her elbow on the rail to be facing Merlin with the sea on one side and the helm on the other.

“Indeed he has,” Merlin agreed with a satisfied smile. “You have been a gracious host.”

“Just don’t forget your part of the bargain,” she reminded the druid.

“It will be yours when the time comes,” Merlin assured her. Someone shouted “whale ho!” and all eyes turned to the sea where a very large whale was blowing close to the Spenddrift, its great black head rising enough to eyeball the Nordic ship. Merlin smiled. Domnu, the goddess of the deep, had her spies. The huge whale rolled down wards and disappeared, no doubt to take his reconnoitering back to the goddess.

“At least one old one knows I’m here,” he whispered to Nimue and Lancelot.

“Will that be a problem?” Nimue asked.

“I don’t think so.” Lancelot looked back out to his sea, his face impassive while Nimue’s enthusiasm tempered. Merlin didn’t want to scare them; he just wanted them to realize there were more things out there than the horrors of Great Britain. “When we get to Dublin,” he began changing the subject, “we need to decide if we stay the night in lodging or stay in the country. I’ve never been to Dublin, so it will be a first for me.”

“You will love it,” Red Spear stated enthusiastically. “Ale and mead houses. Cod like you’ve never tasted.”

“Cod?” Merlin repeated a little less enthusiastically.

“The best.”

“No shepherd’s pie?”

Red Spear looked at him as if he were mad. “I suppose you could find it.”

“There are Irish in Dublin?” Merlin asked, finding the thought of no Irish on Irish soil disturbing.

“Of course there are Irish in Dublin, the smart ones anyway,” Red Spear answered, her eyes fixed on the sea in front of them.

Smart ones? Merlin inclined his head and let the discussion drop. But the thought of a good Irish meal was just too tempting. When the ship pulled into port, and they unloaded their horses, Merlin stopped to get a feel for the land. Nimue’s eyes glowed with curiosity and excitement, while Lancelot looked lost. Merlin squeezed his arm and said, “It does get easier. I promise.” 

Merlin could feel the spirits all around him. The Celtic Christians of Ireland had had a different relationship with the sidhe than the fey of Great Britain had had with the Saxons and Nordics. The magic was still fading, but at least the old ones that were left were able to protect what they could from persecution. 

Finding a livery for their horses with an alehouse adjoining it, Merlin decided he could live with cod if it was prepared right. Not all dried and salted. Entering the establishment, he found a table and sat down with his younger companions. Lancelot sat with his back to the wall…old habits. Merlin instantly saw through the man’s disguise, as did Nimue and Lancelot. The man placing mugs of ale in front of them was an old veteran with a coarse beard and shaggy hair. Beneath the disguise was a male of great beauty with fine white hair and eyes lined with black. Merlin knew him from long ago.

“Father wants to see you,” the man spoke softly to Merlin.

“I want to see him,” Merlin replied easily. “I will be there tomorrow.”

This satisfied the man. He straightened and then thought of something. Leaning back towards Merlin, he said, “Try the shepherd’s pie. It’s very good.”

Merlin’s expression lit up. “I will,” he assured the being. The man smiled and returned to the kitchen. Nimue leaned towards her father asked in a guarded voice, “Who was that?”

“Nemglan, a sidhe warrior,” Merlin answered as a buxom young woman came over to see what else they wanted. “Three shepherd’s pies,” he announced eagerly. “I was told it was very good.”

The lovely young woman flashed a smile to equal her bosom and replied, “We are famous for our lamb.”

“Excellent, I look forward to it.”

When she left the table, Lancelot leaned towards Merlin and asked, “How did he know we were here?”

“The birds told him. Nemglan is quite literally king of his father’s birds.” Then to Nimue, Merlin said, “He won’t hurt you, but he is a flirt. Has a taste for mortal women last I saw him.” 

The shepherd’s pie was delivered and Merlin devoured it with great contentment. Lancelot, unused to fancy food, ate his a little more slowly before deciding he liked it. Nimue decided it could have been a boiled leather shoe and she would have eaten it. After this fine meal, according to Merlin, they needed to find a room for the night…for him and his children. The lovely lady accommodated them by introducing them to the master of the establishment. He had just the room for the man and his two…uh children?

“They’re twins,” Merlin responded with a grin. “Let’s drop off our gear and walk around the town.” 

Dublin was a remarkable town to Merlin. Very Norse with just enough Old Irish to keep him smiling. Nimue wondered aloud if they might bring the fey here?

“The sidhe wouldn’t like it,” Merlin replied with a heavy sigh. “When mortals and the sidhe fought, the sidhe lost but they were too powerful to just kill off, so in the peace treaty, the sidhe went underground and into hiding. You wouldn’t believe the great palaces underground. Tomorrow we will see one.” As an afterthought, he added, “The old ones, the ones with their powers still intact, do occasionally walk among men, but they hide behind disguises. Like Nemglan did.”

“He looked very young,” Lancelot finally said something.

“He still has most of his magic. Not all but most. Wait until you meet Oengus. He looks like a very young man because he’s the personification of youth. He was once a very good friend of mine.”

They arrived at a pub with Gaelic writing on the head board. Merlin stopped and stared at it a moment and then headed towards the doors. 

“After you, brother,” Nimue teased.  
“After you, sister,” Lancelot countered with a smile that actually went all the way to his eyes.

Mead this time and more shepherd’s pie. Merlin was ecstatic. But the thing that gave him the greatest pleasure was when an old man with the harp sat down and started telling the stories of the sidhe and the mortals they sired. Cuchulainn! Merlin thought he would never hear that name again. He wanted Nimue and Lancelot to understand what was being said, but there was only one way to do it. He leaned over and kissed Nimue on the ear and blew into it, a playful gesture or so it seemed, but it also allowed her to understand the poet. Lancelot grimaced when Merlin stood up and grabbed his head, leaned over and kissed his ear.

“I am so proud of you, my son,” he said, his breath sealing the spell. Lancelot could also understand the poet.

Lo, the final battle of Cuchulainn. The words flowed from the man and wove a spell around the room as pure as one of magic. How Maeve the great queen sought the death of the Hound for thinking her a mere women, and Morrigan though angered that the Hound refused her love had stayed with him til the end. 

Nimue was spell bound as druidesses wove dark magic against the hero. The King of the Horses battled the dark enemy! The mighty stallion Liath Macha falters! Cuchulainn fights on tying himself to a stela. Merlin glanced back at Lancelot and smiled. The younger fey was as mesmerized as Nimue.

And the Morrigan lit upon the stela and stayed with Hound as he died. Lovely Emer of the slender ankles died of a broken heart and fell into his grave to sleep forever with him.

“The Irish love those endings,” Merlin whispered to Nimue. 

When the recital was over and it was quite late, Merlin decided to take his children back to their lodgings. Lancelot, the chatty one tonight, deep in thought, asked, “Why do the Irish love those kind of stories?”

“Cuchulainn was a great hero…”

“No. You said they loved stories where the woman dies of a broken heart. Why?”

Merlin looked up at the younger fey and tried to think of a good answer that he would understand. “The Irish believe in true love, that when you find your soul mate, you can not live without them. Very few stories actually have soul mates in them. The Dagda was notorious for entertaining the ladies.”

Lancelot nodded and got quiet again. Once back in the room, confronted by two beds of equal size, Merlin decided Nimue could have one by herself and he and Lancelot would share the other.

“I could sleep on the floor,” Lancelot offered.

“As could I, but tonight we sleep on….” Merlin tested the mattress….”on a bed of rushes.” A small window overhead permitted light into the room. Merlin noted the quilts were a little threadbare but were sufficient. Lancelot gave him all the quilts and wrapped himself in his cloak. The moment Lancelot settled down he went to sleep. Merlin was quick in joining him. Nimue stared at the ceiling, her mind still racing with a hundred thoughts. Only when she heard Merlin’s deep snore did she smile and turn her head to look at the two men asleep in the other bed. She couldn’t see her father, Lancelot was blocking him, and she couldn’t see Lancelot wrapped in his cocoon. She noticed his sword was on the floor beside the bed. All he had to do was drop his hand to get it,

She finally closed her eyes and thought of Arthur. He passed before her eyes smiling.


	3. The Brug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio make it to the Brug where Nimue is told of an interesting way to help her people by Nemglan. He has a hot companion if Nimue would stop interrupting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to devote the next chapter to love and sex and magic hence it stopping where it did.

Merlin got them on the road early for their ride north.With the days getting shorter and cooler, the kilometers ride would have them arriving at the Brug at dusk. For Merlin it was a wonderful step back in time. The winding lanes that flowed past farms and fields were magical. Hay cut and stacked were visible as far as he could see. Cattle grazed in golden fields and horses occasionally looked up and whinnied at them. Sometimes they would pass a farm and send chickens or geese scattering out of the way. Nimue found herself longing for this simplicity for her own people. 

A tavern provided a quick simple lunch of bread, cheese, and Irish butter washed down by good ale. This was manna to Merlin. He didn’t know what kind of welcome they would get at the Brug, but he was hopeful. Once he and Oengus mac Og were like brothers, but when he left to help a British queen against the Romans the sidhe grew bitter and blamed him for not helping them at Tailtiu. Some memories died hard, and he worried that they would think his return a greater betrayal than his leaving.

He explained this to Nimue and Lancelot over a final mug of ale. “Would they endanger our lives?” Lancelot asked guardedly his honed instincts designed to guard and protect…and kill. 

“If Oengus meant to harm me, he would have already done so,” Merlin replied confidently, “and he would not harm either of you. That is one thing I am certain of.” Oengus was the best of the old ones left. He had heard that many of the survivors refused to even associate with humans or travel in the world of men. 

“I would not stand by and let anyone harm you,” Lancelot assured him.

Merlin smiled. “If anything happens, I want you to protect Nimue. And do not try to use the sword.”

“Why?”

“It’s his.”

Nimue’s eyes widened in surprise. “I thought you made it.”

“I did, sort of, but I took it from him,” Merlin explained. Lancelot’s expression was most telling. “He wasn’t using it,” Merlin explained further. “After Tailtiu there was no point in keeping it.”

Lancelot’s expression still indicated that he disapproved of taking another man’s sword. What would he think if he ever learned of all the wives Merlin once partook of? Paying the tavern keeper and tipping his lovely maid, they resumed on their ride. 

The land was dark when they finally arrived at the Brug, a passage tomb on the outside that did not look like much. The Boann’s great river flowed past, and the occasional cry of a waterfowl rolled off it. They dismounted on the river’s bank and looked around but there was no one present. “I’ll build a fire,” Lancelot offered.

“No need for that,” a voice called from overhead.

Nimue, Merlin and Lancelot looked up as a large beautiful swan flew towards them, changed into a beautiful man with wings and then upon lighting, Nemglan. “Welcome, Ma….”

“Merlin,” Merlin quickly corrected him. He didn’t want to explain his far past to Nimue just yet.

“Merlin it is,” Nemglan replied and took Nimue’s hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “And to the queen of the British fey.”

Nimue smiled and replied, “My father told me you were a flirt.”

Nemglan laughed. “I am at that, but you don’t know Merlin’s past like I do.”

“Another time indeed,” Merlin interrupted the sidhe warrior before he told Nimue things that Merlin did not want her to know. “Your father awaits.” 

Nemglan turned and waved his hands in the air, and a pathway lit by golden torches appeared before them. Nimue was stunned by its beauty. Gold and silver cobblestone steps made the walk way and even in the pale light of torch fire, she could see roses and wildflowers and fruit trees at different levels of maturity. A nightingale sang from one of the trees. Shimmering little lights danced in the fruit trees. Had such a thing ever existed for her people?

Nemglan stopped as a group of people approached, Merlin grinned and walked towards the group. “Oengus,” he greeted and held out his hands. He could only trust that Oengus’ brilliant grin was honest. 

“What do you go by these days?” the very young looking man greeted him with a warm embrace.

“Merlin.”

“It is good to see you again, my old friend,” Oengus replied and gazed past him at his companions.

“Allow me to introduce my daughter, Nimue, and our protector Lancelot.”

“Honored,” Oengus said and kissed Nimue’s hand. “Allow me to introduce my ladies Cair and Edain.” The ravenhaired woman with ice blue eyes, Cair, inclined her head. A necklace of diamonds and pearls circled her swanlike neck. Her white gown shimmered around her slender body in a light of its own creation. Nimue had never seen anything so beautiful. Edain, golden haired in a gown or royal blue that changed colors as she moved, extended her hand. A necklace of amethysts and golden beads encircled her neck. She felt like a peasant next to these women.

“The Queen of the British Fey honors us,” Edain said graciously. Was her hair real or spun gold?

“You honor me,” Nimue countered. No one said anything to the laconic Lancelot.

Oengus, slapping Merlin on the arm, said, “Come. I have prepared a fine meal to welcome you home.”

“I was afraid you would still be angry,” Merlin confessed.

“Life is too short to stay angry,” Oengus said and led the way into his palace.

Nimue was stunned by beauty around her. Was this how her people had once lived? Overhead the night sky burned with flashes of red and blue light. She could hear a waterfall somewhere. Glancing back at Lancelot, she grinned and he returned a smile. 

The great hall was indeed great with an enormous fire pit in the middle of it. Merlin as guest of honor sat at Oengus’ side with Cair on Oengus’ left and Edain on Merlin’s right. Nimue and Lancelot were seated at a near table and found themselves sharing it with Nemglan and a beautiful ban sidhe in a gauzy nearly transparent attire that hid very little from anyone’s sight. Lancelot blushed when he first noticed he could see through it. The ban sidhe and Nemglan were very friendly with one another. 

Platters of meat, boar and lamb and venison were brought to the table, along with vegetables that were foreign to Nimue. And the abundance boggled her mind. What a meal like this could do for her people!

“I feel guilty eating it,” she said softly and gazed at the abundance on her plate.

Nemglan on her right cocked his head around and asked, “Do you not share with your people?” 

“I do not know how to share this or I would.”

Nemglan smiled and popped a fatty piece of pork in his mouth. “You haven’t been a queen very long, have you?”

“No,” she admitted. “We are here looking for the cauldron to avoid famine. It seems wrong that I am surrounded by plenty while they starve.”

“You and your consort have the power to affect the hearts of your people, and even send prey their way.” He stopped as his female companion fed him another piece of meat. “It’s up to them to catch it.” 

“I have no consort,” Nimue answered quickly. “My companion is a mortal and I left him with my people to protect them.”

Nemglan stared at her a moment. “Mortals are good,” he finally admitted, “but they end up dying on you. I’ve had some of most beautiful women in Ireland in my bed, and I’ve had sons who were great kings, but they all died hundreds of years ago. Plus you can’t do magic with mortals.”

Nimue said nothing to this. It had never occurred to her that she would live longer than Arthur and maybe outlive generations of their descendents. “Can I not do this magic on my own?”

“I don’t think so. Even Maeve and Morrigan, both powerful in sexual magic needed males in their beds. In fact, I am surprised that Morrigan is not here.”

Nimue only half heard him. The idea that she was not helping her people because she didn’t have a consort troubled her. “If I had a consort, how would we do this?” she asked the sidhe warrior in a guarded voice, not wanting Lancelot to hear their conversation. He would be embarrassed that they were indirectly discussing him. And he was listening to a good story recounting a tale of someone named Manannan mac Lir. 

“Well,” Nemglan thought about it a moment. “It helps if you are lovers. Actually you have to be lovers.”

“I understand that. What do we do next?”

“Connect you magics and reach out to your people. They can’t actually feel you, but they can sense your well being.”

A sidhe woman in transparent gossamer stepped out and started swaying to the beat of a small drum. Lancelot was getting an eyeful of naked females tonight. A flute joined in as her dancing became more passionate. Nimue glanced at Lancelot; he was mesmerized. d. Nimue studied him a moment. Would he act as her consort for one night to help her people?

She turned back to Nemglan whose companion was getting friendlier. “One more question,” Nimue said to the sidhe warrior. “How would we send prey their way?”

Nemglan rolled his eyes. He placed a finger over the ban sidhe’s lips and said, “One moment.” He turned back to Nimue and said, “You connect to your people, he connects to the prey and sends it their way. Simple.”

To him maybe. She turned back to the dancing woman. Yes, she was doing things that Nimue had never imagined doing. A woman in black suddenly appeared and the music stopped. 

“Morrigan,” Nemglan whispered into her ear.

Morrigan was beautiful with long black hair, skin as white as snow and lips as red as blood. For all her haughty beauty there was a look of disgust on her face. Merlin and Oengus both stood up. “Morrigan,” Merlin started, but she silenced him with a slap across the face. Nimue laid a hand on Lancelot’s thigh to keep him from jumping up to protect Merlin. She didn’t mean to let her hand linger.

“Why have you come back now, traitor? Was your whore not good enough?” Morrigan demanded angrily.

Merlin was not going to fight with her. “You know how it ended,” he replied calmly and wiped the blood off his lip with the back of his hand. 

“Dead and buried,” the raven witch snapped.

“Dead anyway,” Merlin countered. “Please join us. I really do want to speak with you.”

“I would rather sit with a rat,” Morrigan retorted angrily. “You left us when we needed you.”

“I know, and I will always regret it, please. Join us.” He offered her his seat.

“Good food, Morrigan,” Oengus added brightly. “Why turn down a good meal because you’re still mad at him?” 

Morrigan relented. Chairs were rearranged so Edain was sitting beside Cair and Morrigan was sitting beside Merlin. “I still haven’t forgiven you,” she warned the druid.

“I understand fully. May I slice you some pork?”

Morrigan glanced around the hall and noticed Nimue and Lancelot. “Oengus, who are the young ones?”

Merlin answered. “That is my daughter Nimue….”

“Queen of the British fey,” Oengus added. He popped a piece of venison in his mouth and smiled. How could anyone stay mad with him smiling at them.

“And the beautiful one?” Morrigan continued.

Merlin knew Morrigan’s taste in men and was immediately concerned. “He is Lancelot and he is with us.”

“I want him.”

“He’s not for sale,” Merlin replied good-naturedly and continued adding meat and vegetables to her plate.

“I don’t want to buy him; I want to fuck him.”

“He’s a Christian. You might frighten him, but I am available,” Merlin counter offered.

Morrigan fixed sharp eyes on Merlin. “I have already fucked you.”

“But it was such a long time ago.”

“True, but he is prettier than you. And he looks more interesting.”

Merlin smiled. “Some of us can not keep our beauty as well as others.”

Everybody in the hall could hear their conversation, which made Nimue angry. They were discussing Lancelot the same way they were discussing the food on their plates. She turned to Nemglan who was now deep in foreplay with the lovely ban sidhe. “I think I’ve had enough,” she said.

Nemglan drew back and sighed. “You can share rooms or have your own,” he said,weary from the interruptions.

“I think I would like my own.”

Nemglan waved one of the servants over and said, “Show Lady Nimue to her room.” He threw a curious glance at Lancelot and asked, “Are you going too?” Lancelot nodded. “And him.” Morrigan was probably scaring the shit out of him.

Nimue turned one last time to Nemglan but he stopped her with a raised finger. “You need to work this out yourself,” he said and returned to his companion’s swan like neck.

Nimue and Lancelot followed the servant to her room first, but she wanted to see where Lancelot was staying and followed them to his room. Merlin was between her and Lancelot. “We need to talk,” she told the fey warrior.

The servant bowed his head and left them alone. Nimue didn’t figure being alone with him in his room was going to be that big a deal after she said what she need to to him. He on the other hand looked nervous. Too many naked women for a man who had lived his entire adult life celibate. She looked around his room. Very nice and masculine, filled with furs and leathers. Candles lit the room and bathed it in golden light.

Getting to the point, she said, “I found out tonight that we can help the fey in England with our magic.”

“How?” How was it his voice sounded as if he rarely spoke above a whisper?

“That’s what I needed to talk to you about. You see it would be our physical union.”  
It took him a moment to grasp what she was saying. Then his eyes widened with surprise, but he said nothing. “I’ve never done this before, but if it will help my people, I want to try it.” She looked up. “I know I am asking a lot, and that you might be uncomfortable with this, but I can not think of anything else that can help them right now.” 

“Now?”

Nimue knew she was about to change her mind. Alone with him, this seemed ridiculous, but before she could back out, she said, “Yes, now.”

“Just tell me what to do.”

That was just it, Nimue didn’t know what to do. “I think we ought to undress first.”


	4. Love and Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nimue and Lancelot use sex to raise magic.  
> And what did the birds tell Nemglan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morrigan's threat comes from Irish myth. Cuchulainn refused her love.  
> Next chapter will go up next week.

Lancelot turned his back to her to undress. He was very quiet while doing this and only sat down to pull off his boots. Nimue watched him while awkwardly removing her own clothes. She could sense he was afraid of disappointing her. And she realized that she was asking him to do something that he had never done before while using fey magic in the process. Two things he was never allowed to do under Father Carden’s tender mercies. He stood up to slide the leggings down his beautifully long legs and then turned to pull the blankets down on his bed. Nimue did not know if it was simply his beauty or something else that drew her to him.

“Wait,” she said and moved to stand behind him. He froze and stood up straight. This man was lovely, wide shouldered and narrow hipped, with the scars on his skin that spoke of terrible pain. She didn’t want to ask why or how, she did not want to make him think about the trauma that had led to them. She wanted him to feel desire and to know he was desired. Reaching up she loosened his hair and marveled at how some of it was rich chestnut and other was pale gold as it fell about his strong shoulders. What was he thinking as she did this?

This was so awkward to Nimue, but they were both naked now and it would seem more than foolish to suddenly change her mind. In stead she lifted her hands to those powerful shoulders and brushed his skin at the base of his neck with just the tips of her fingers and nails. She ran them slowly down his back, her thumbs touching at his spine, and watched the fine hairs stand up on his skin. His breathing deepened, but she was afraid to see his face. At his waist she stopped and dropped her hands to his thighs, as far down as she could reach. She repeated her nails on his skin dragging them upwards over his lean flanks. 

Nimue leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his back while running her nails lightly around his body and up to his chest. She could feel the heat rising in him, his skin flushing red. With the power of some ancient goddess coursing through her veins, she circled him but still refused to look up at his face, afraid of what she might see. His nipples tightened when her thumbs brushed them. Obedient Lancelot did not move but there were some things he could not prevent. Carden may have trained the man to suppress his emotions and desires, but his body knew why it existed. Nimue lowered her eyes to that part of him that was most male. There would be no comparisons between her lovers, no awareness of how one responded to the way she touched him versus the other. She loved Arthur but needed Lancelot’s magic. This did not mean she could not care for Lancelot. Maybe even love him in her own way.

Nimue finally used her nails on the tender flesh that was uniquely male. She hefted his testicles and very lightly scratched the underside. A sound so uniquely male escaped his throat and she smiled. His cock, swelling with blood, would not be treated so gently. She finally looked up at his face. Passion burned in his beautiful eyes and his nostrils flared with each breath. Obedient Lancelot.

Nimue climbed on the bed and held her hand out to him, and he came to her eager and ready. Her arms encircled his neck, her lips pressed against his. She fed at his mouth, waking his passion even more. He was fire; she was water, the same as the first fey ancestors centuries ago. He burned but there was no pain, only a deep need to bathe in his warm blood. 

He lay her back on the bed, his bed, and kissed her neck, taking light nibbles out of her skin, and finding a new male pride in her moans. He rose up on one hand, her body beneath him, and caressed her breasts, finding them so soft and tender. Following instincts that had been long suppressed, he took a ripe nipple into his mouth and sucked on it gently. Nimue writhed beneath him as his free hand trailed down her body to her hidden treasure. He stroked her intimately. Nimue could not suppress the moan that escaped her lips.

She knew if they continued this way, they would finish before raising the magic she needed. “Lay down, me on top,” she panted but froze when he raised his fingers, damp with her juices, to his nostrils and breathed it in. The scent of an aroused female. Nimue could have sworn she saw living sparks of fire in his eyes. Then he tasted it. She wasn’t so sure now if she was still in charge. But he obeyed her, rolling on his back, and she took a moment to gaze down at the magnificence of his body. She sat on his thighs and took his hands in hers. They pushed against each other, elbows locked, and then he bent his arms bringing her lips to his body. Nimue bit at the burning skin. 

Her thoughts drifted to her people in England. She wanted them warm and well fed; she wanted them safe and contented if only for a few hours. “Lancelot, imagine you are hunting,” she said warmly and licked his skin. “What are you hunting?” Asking a man in the first throes of magical passion what he was hunting seemed insane to Nimue but she had to get him there. “What are you hunting, my sweet.”

The fire in his eyes faded but only slightly. “Geese,” he answered breathlessly.

“Big fat geese,” Nimue repeated and rose on her knees. She had to free one of her hands to grasp him and position herself for mounting. Her touch sent shocks through him that she could sense as the fire in his eyes burned even brighter. What did he see when he looked at her? 

She slowly settled on his erection her free hand clutching at his, while the magic flared between them. Nemglan had been wrong about this. She and Lancelot could raise it easily, but she feared it would consume them. She should have asked him how to cut it off. She rocked forward using his pelvic bone to rub against her clit. She was so close.

Lancelot suddenly flipped her over on all fours and positioned his cock at the entrance to her pussy. He pushed in carefully, unsure of himself, and then he stroked her harder. Nimue dropped her head as he found her g spot. A spot she didn’t even know she had. Everything started to build inside of her again like a fire she could not put out. He used his thighs to open her legs wider, and he fucked her harder. This was it! She was rushing towards a moment of pure energy when everything turned to magic. To perfection.

Dear goddess, let him remember to think of geese, fat tasty geese. Nimue could hold it back no longer and shattered into a million pieces, each one on fire. He slammed into her and froze. When the throbbing ended he sat back on his knees and then toppled over on his side, the most masculine of shit eating grins on his face.

Nimue turned around and took his face between her hands and kissed him, deeply and lovingly. “Please tell me you remembered the geese?” she asked against his lips.

He rolled on his back and stretched. Nimue was afraid she would have to fuck him again he looked so delicious. “Geese and rabbits and grouse,” he answered contentedly.

Nimue grinned and kissed him again, awakening his hunger anew. Lancelot was obedient but he also liked sex. Nimue had to admit that she liked it too. “No animals this time,” she laughed against his lips. “Let this be for us.”

Nimue slept beside him and awoke to a clear light shining through a window she had not noticed the night before. There was a pitcher of fresh water on a table and even clean clothes much nicer than what she had worn the night before. Temptation was great. For once she wanted to look like a real queen in a beautiful gown that shifted through colors of blue and green, never staying the same, the colors of a deep mountain lake. Lancelot sat on the edge of the bed, and the approval on his face brightened her heart. When he stood, Nimue could not hide the admiration on her face. He was beautiful. More beautiful than her gown. 

He approached her, the hunter spying his prey, and he laid his hands gently on her shoulders and dropped his head to kiss her. There was no bitter morning taste on his lips, just wild berries and honey. She laid her hands against his breast and gently pushed him away. “I’m clean,” she teased.

He backed away and reached for his clothes. “If last night is to be out only time together, I will die a happy man,” he said as he pulled on his leather leggings.

“I cannot imagine it will be,” Nimue replied with a touch of regret. She loved Arthur.

Lancelot turned to her and she thought there were tears in his eyes. “My lady, I am yours whenever for whatever. My sword and body belong to you.”

Nimue smiled but she could not take pleasure in his confession. He knew. 

Nemglan was munching on an apple when they made their way back to the great hall. He was the only one there and threw Lancelot an apple. “Geese!” he laughed. “Really?”

Nimwue blushed profusely. How did he know? “Your spies tell you this?” she asked trying to regain her queenly dignity.  
“Birds tell me many things,” Nemglan said with a grin and handed her a peach. “It’s sweet and juicy.” He also handed her a silk napkin. “It’s very juicy.”

“But no rabbits or grouse?” she asked and bit into the peach. It was glorious!

Nemglan laughed aloud. “A plague of rabbits. Most were captured and kept in cages. I interceded on behalf of the grouse.” 

Sitting on the edge of a table, Nemglan eyed Lancelot and said, “You are good, but for my sake let it be cattle or deer the next time. Birds are sacred to me.”

“I will remember that,” Lancelot promised. 

Needing to get the conversation off her and Lancelot’s magic, she asked, “Have you seen Merlin?”

“He and Morrigan are in the garden. I still don’t think she’s forgiven him, though, but he’s working on it. I’ll walk you over if you like.”

“Yes, please.”

Merlin picked a cherry ripe from the tree and handed it to Morrigan. A night of passion had soothed her hurt feelings. Or so he hoped. But the moment Nemglan walked into the garden ahead of Nimwue and Lancelot the raven witch came out in her.

“I felt your magic,” she said, her eyes on Lancelot. “What could we do together?”

Merlin acted quickly. “He is taken by his queen,” he explained as best he could. Morrigan was not used to being denied what she wanted.

Nemglan tossing his apple core on the ground where it turned into a small tree stayed between the ban sidhe and her interest. “He is too innocent for you,” he said. “Give him a hundred years.”

Morrigan met the warrior’s smiling gaze with one less friendly. “Remember what happened to the last hero who refused my bed?” she asked curiously. “It would be a pity for one so young to have a similar fate. Go back to your whores, Nemglan, this is not a game you want to play.”

“Nor one you ought to play,” the bird sidhe answered her threat. “At least I don’t destroy the whores who refuse me.”

Merlin tried to defuse things. “Nimue, maybe you and Lancelot need to check on our horses?”

Morrigan would not relent. Staring at Nemglan and he at her, she said, “I will have him.” And with that she shifted into a raven and flew away.

Nemglan spun on his heels and growled at Lancelot, “You will fuck her if you want to live.”


	5. Love, Sex and Hurling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancelot and Nimue continue to bond, and she's just not impressed with hurling.  
> And Merlin was there when Rua the Bloody wiped out half the sidhe team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of more chapters of sweetness before it turns ugly for our trio.

Day two at the Brug, and Nemglan had his spies searching for any news on Dagda’s cauldron. Lancelot hoped they never found it. He had never known such happiness or peace in his entire life. 

Waking up with her asleep beside him filled him with a contentment he had never experienced before. Turning on his side, he smiled and very carefully moved a strand of hair away from her face so he could drink in her beauty. Maybe it was foolish on his part, and maybe it meant something different to her, but he loved her. Without hesitation he loved her. And he did not want to lose the warm balm that surrounded his heart.

Nimue must have sensed him watching her because her eyes slowly opened and a smile lit up her face. “Good morning,” she purred sleepily and touched his scruffy cheek. She actually liked the scruff. Made him look….dangerous? To everyone but her, she was certain of that. There was a wicked boy look in his eyes that amused her. “Have I created a monster?” she asked playfully and stretched, his eyes going immediately to her breasts.

“If you mean do I love your body? Then yes,” he answered and rose on one elbow so he could lean down and kiss her. Even after a night of lovemaking, she smelled clean and sweet. And warm. And female. She wrapped her fingers in his hair and raised her knee, an invitation to join her again. 

Nimue did not understand this connection with him, but it was as if he were a missing piece of her soul, her other half. He moved between her legs, his hungry kisses never leaving her lips, and with a slip of his spine he was inside of her. Their connection was instantaneous, the completion of a whole. He rolled over without losing her; she was now astride her stallion. And he loved her full breasts, loved the way they felt in his hands, how he could bring little mews out of her when he played with them. Dark masculine pleasure swelled inside of him when she used his body for her own pleasure.

They clasped hands as she fractured into a million points burning pleasure, her eyes as turbulent as a squall at sea, dark and furious. He ached to follow her. Turning her over he slammed into her pussy once, twice, before he also shatter into million pieces to be reforged by fire and water.

She turned and kissed him. 

Nemglan was in the garden sitting on a marble bench with a hurling stick in hand getting messages from the birds he had sent out to look for anything about the cauldron. It didn’t look good. When his father and Melin showed up, he laid out the facts. “The kettle was divided among the Fomorians to keep us from repairing it. 

“Do you know the names of the ones who have?” Merlin asked curiously. 

“Neit, Lot, and a couple of others.”

“Lot?” Merlin mouthed with concern. Oengus and Nemglan could see the spirit just drain out of him as he sat on the bench beside Nemglan. “I need to talk this over with Nimue and Lancelot.” 

Oengus, sympathetic to his cause, said, “I will help you anyway I can, but I can not send an army out to fight her.”

“No, no, of course not,” Merlin agreed and waved his hand at the thought of an armed conflict over a piece of broken iron. “But I need to speak with them,” he said and stood up. “Could you get the names of everyone who has a piece of it?”

“I’ll have it written down by this evening,” Nemglan promised and stood up. Smiling, he added, “If you can get Lancelot out of bed, tell him to come join us for a hurling match.”

Merlin returned his smile. “I was there you know,” he remembered aloud. “When Rua the Bloody played his finest game.”

“Rua the Bloody!” Oengus retorted. “That son of a bitch killed half our team.”

“Yes, well, it was hurling.”

Merlin hurried to Lancelot’s room, where for two nights his daughter had stayed. He would be lying if he said he had not expected it. Lightly rapping on the door, he said, “Nimue, I need to speak with you and Lancelot.” After a moment the door opened, and Nimue in Lancelot’s cloak allowed him in. “Isn’t that a little large for you?” he asked curiously. Lancelot was standing on the other side of the bed fastening his leggings his long hair hiding his face. Life was just so unfair.

“What’s wrong?” Nimue asked nervously.

“Nemglan’s birds have returned and told him that pieces of the cauldron are scattered all over Ireland among the Fomorians. Even if I can repair the cauldron, I do not see how we can collect the pieces from all of them.”

“We’ll not return home empty handed,” Lancelot spoke up confidently. “Tell me the names and I will gather the pieces.”

If Nimue didn’t love Lancelot, Merlin certainly did. “We go together if that is the decision.” Both men looked at Nimue.

“Of course we go on,” she said and pushed the cowl back so that at least her face could be seen. “When do we leave and where do we go?”

“I think the morning will be the soonest we can go. I need to see about getting us some pack ponies.” Merlin turned away trying to think of what else they needed, then he remembered Nemglan’s remark. “Nemglan said if you can get out of bed, they are hurling and you are welcome to join them.” Lancelot smiled as a memory from another time came to him.

“Go,” Nimue told her father and steered him towards the door. Turning to her lover, she asked, “What is hurling?”

“It’s fifteen men battling over a sliotar,” he replied easily, his smile getting larger the more he thought about it.

Nimue was not impressed with hurling or the way her lover, bright eyed and bloody faced, could not be dissuaded from continuing the game. And for someone who only remembered it from when he was a very young boy, he was really quite good at it. He and Nemglan on the same team literally ran roughshod over their opponents., Riagain, the captain of Oengus’s army, was brutal on the opposing side but he was no match for either of them. 

“It’s the bonding of men over a battle that no one loses,” Morrigan said and sat on the hillside beside Nimue. “If you are going to confront Nemain, you will need my help,” she said without preface.

“I don’t know who Nemain is,” Nimue answered, not ready to trust the raven witch.

“A goddess of war to mortals,” Morrigan replied, her eyes never leaving the men on the field. “Your father knows her horrors, but I fear your lover will be reckless because he is young and doesn’t know.”

“Help is always appreciated, but I remember your words. Lancelot is mine, and I don’t share.”

Morrigan smiled. “Hasty words,” she said without apology. “It has been long time since someone young and beautiful has visited the Brug.”

“Have you spoken to Merlin?”

Morrigan flashed a toothsome grin and stood up. “He sent me to you.” Then without fanfare she flew away. 

Lancelot got the sliotar on the end of his stick and took off running towards the goal. Riagain turned on him and gave chase. The women on the hill with Nimue stood up shouting. At the last moment Lancelot passed it to Nemglan. The defenders moved to intercept him but the bird sidhe tossed it back to Lancelot, who wound up his stick and hit the sliotar as hard as he could sending it blazing past the net tender. Nimue screamed with the other women on the hill. She still thought it was a dumb sport, but she guessed it could be worse.

No one escaped the game unbloodied. Mugs of good ale and mead quenched thirsts while female companions purred over these self inflicted injuries. Nimue was ashamed of herself….not really….when she washed the blood off Lancelot’s face and out of his hair. “We won,” he told her for the tenth time.

“And yet the winners and losers bear the same injuries,” she remarked indifferently.

Riagain, his arm around his wife, walked past them and growled, “Next time, fey.”

“Just say when, Cruithne” Lancelot shot back, although there was no hostility in the banter. 

Nemglan, his arms occupied by two very attractive ban sidhes, stopped and said, “Not bad for a fey.”

“Not bad?” Nimue shot back indignantly as she finished washing the blood off Lancelot’s grinning face. “I think he was brilliant.” So much for being unimpressed.

Nemglan bent at the waist, dragging his two ladies with him. “Your queen speaks.” Straightening he added, “I will have those names by this evening.” Merlin was horrified when he saw them.

“Since this our last day with a real bed,” Lancelot said as he knelt between Nimue’s legs, “I thought we’d take advantage of it.” She looked so sweet with her hands over her head, her naked body a feast for his eyes, a feast he meant to dine upon. Dropping on all fours so he could gaze into her lust blinded eyes, he purred, “Say one word and we spend the night sleeping. Stay quiet and I will…” he stopped and gazed down her body. Holding himself up with one hand, he used the other to caress her body from breast to groin. She whimpered but the moment his eyes shot back to her face she got quiet again.

Long fingers that gripped swords now delicately caressed his lover’s trembling body. Her breasts, an unending source of fascination for him received extra attention, and he loved the way her nipples turned so hard when he brushed them with his thumbs. That she was fighting to keep quiet amused him even more. He slid back and gazed down at her, meeting her desperate gaze with one not so desperate. Not this time. How far could he push her before she could control it no longer? He’d have to see. 

Scooting back on the bed but still between her opened thighs, he leaned over supporting himself with one hand, and pressed his lips to her skin just over her racing heart. It was less a kiss and more a taste, his tongue flicking over the sleek skin. Then to add to her torture, he did the same thing to her right nipple. He could smell the heat rising in her.

He moved his lips lower and repeated it, taking the left nipple into his mouth this time. When he reached her navel she was a mess, and he only made it worse when he pressed her luscious breasts together and took both tender nipples into his mouth. When he released them, he purred like a lion, “Good girl.”

Sitting on his left hip, supporting himself with his left hand, he took those long fingers to her pussy and stroked her. She couldn’t make any sounds but it didn’t mean she couldn’t writhe at his touch. Once more he scented her and tasted the moisture on his fingers. Nimue’s eyes rolled back when he lowered himself, got comfortable and pressed his lips to her pussy, his tongue flicking over the surface.

He knew she couldn’t hold out much longer that she was rushing towards release. He stayed with her, giving her all she wanted and needed, her gasp and the way she clutched his hair telling him he had done it right. When she pushed him away he rose on his hands and knees and stared at her, his expression ancient and carnal. 

“I want to see your face,” she purred and held her arms out to him. She was so hot and wet. She wrapped her arms around his strong neck and her legs around his lean waist. He kissed her open mouthed and hungry, letting her taste herself on his chin. With each slip of his spine he felt control leaving him. “Lancelot, look at me,” she repeated tenderly and lifted his chin with the fingers of one hand while holding him around the neck with her other arm.

He tried, he really tried, but the moment he felt that rush of pleasure shoot from his groin and up his spine he threw his head back and shuddered. Nimue leaned forward and kissed his lean breast over his heart.

Morning saw them riding out of the Brug, Merlin leading two sidhe packhorses. Morrigan was nowhere to be seen.


	6. A wee bit o tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin has a visitor.   
> Nimue confesses her feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> White cattle with red ears are fey cattle

Dusk was only a few hours away when they found themselves in a land of fields and ancient oaks. A very old woman with a walking stick was on the road fighting to drag a white cow with red ears somewhere. Every time the old woman tugged on the halter, the cow rolled her head and stood her ground.

Merlin reined his horse and stepped down, motioning for Lancelot to come with him. “Mother, can we help you?” he asked kindly.

“She drags me to the bull, an’ I drag her home,” the old woman said with a weary sigh.

“Here. Let me take that,” he said and took the lead from her and passed it to Lancelot. “Where is home?”

“Over yon,” she said and accepted Merlin’s elbow. In the distance a small white cottage with a thatched roof in need of repairs stood alone beside a broken down cowshed. Merlin keeping his steps short and slow started towards it.

Finding himself now in charge of the belligerent cow, Lancelot looked at it and said, “Give me any trouble and I will kill and eat you.” The cow rolled her head. Stepping closer to the animal, he said, “Try me.”

Nimue laughed as he brought the cow along with a strong tug. She imagined a witty remark but decided his response would probably embarrass her. When they got to the little cottage, Nimue and Lancelot secured and unpacked the horses, tied the cow in the shed, and seeing as there was no smoke in the chimney, gathered wood to start a fire. 

Merlin and the old woman were sitting at her worn table having a pleasant chat when Lancelot and Nimue entered the cottage with their saddlebags and gathered wood. “Nimue, check the saddle packs and see if Oengus gave us anything sweet,” Merlin told his daughter. Turning to the old woman, he asked, “What would you like for supper, my dear?”

“I fancy a wee bit o’fish,” the old woman replied with an ancient smile. “It’s been ages since I had a wee bit o’fish.”

“Lancelot?” Merlin started.

“Hunting fish,” Lancelot replied quickly and dug his bow out of his saddlebag and strung it. “I thought you didn’t like fish.”

“Salted cod is an abomination to everything edible,” the druid replied with a snort, “but there is a trout stream if my memory serves me right, just beyond the trees.”

“Hunting trout,” Lancelot mumbled as he started out the door. 

“Good hunting,” Nimue called after him. He gave her a cynical smile on his way out the door.

The fire was rolling merrily in the ancient hearth when Lancelot returned with a string of ten fish, all shot through the head and already cleaned and gutted. “Impressive,” Nimue said and took a seat in straight back chair near him while he sat on a stool to spit the wee bit o’fish. 

“Do we have a wee bit o’salt?” Lancelot called back to Merlin as he ran each fish through an arrow to hold it in place, getting three fish to an arrow.

Merlin picked up a small bowl of salt and held it out to Nimue. Surprised that he just didn’t get up and hand it to Lancelot, she rose from her chair and took it from him. “Your wee bit’o salt,” she teased and gave Lancelot a quick kiss on the brow.

He had the fish cooked in no time, and Nimue placed them on a blue crockery plate and set them on the table. The old woman provided fresh milk, butter and bread. Oengus provided the sweets to go on the bread. As the table was small, Lancelot sat in Nimue’s straight-backed chair and ate his supper. 

Merlin and the old woman engaged each other in story telling, and she was as good as any poet Nimue had heard in Dublin and at the Brug. Nimue found herself enjoying it enormously. And it wasn’t all heroes and talking swords. It was the time Siohn O’Finney’s bitch caught a rabbit in a hole and they couldn’t get the wee dog out except to digger out, because she wouldn’t let go’a the rabbit.

Lancelot, growing tired, moved to the floor and leaned his back against the wall. He felt safe and warm. The old woman glanced at him as he dozed off and said to Nimue, “I once had a good man like that.” She smiled. “If yah grow tired, cailin, ma bed is big enough for the two’a us.” Standing up and reaching for her walking stick, the old woman said, “In fact, I think I’ll lay me weary bones down now. That damn cow wore me out taday.”

“Might be the last bed for awhile,” Merlin told his daughter. Nimwue relented and followed the old woman through another door to a small bedroom. It was nice to lie down and the bed wasn’t that uncomfortable. In short order she was asleep. 

Merlin sat at the table alone for a few minutes before laying his head on his crossed arms. It wasn’t all that comfortable, but he just couldn’t imagine himself on the floor.

The woman, young and ancient at once, gazed affectionately at the daughter of Merlin. Nimue was tender and beautiful, her entire life before her, bringing back memories of an older time to the woman in white. Caressing the young queen’s face, the white woman bid her peace and love. Slipping silently into the main room where the fire was still burning brightly even after several hours, the woman stopped and gazed at the young warrior sprawled on the floor. He was restless, lost in a bad dream that he couldn’t escape from. She crouched by his side and ran her soft hand over his brow, and the dream fled his restless mind.

Turning to the table, her face glowed with love and deep affection. Merlin was sleeping with his head on his crossed arms. She took the seat across from him and said, “Merlin?”

He blinked awake and then raised his head, his face filling with awe and some sadness. “My lady,” he murmured and took her hands in his to kiss them, “I knew it was you.”

“It has been so long, my friend,” she replied gently, her face glowing with love. “I have missed your council.”

Merlin’s eyes dropped. “Forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive me friend,” she replied. “Things changed. You had to go where you felt needed.”

“I erred,” he said and looked up. “I should have stayed where I was because I changed nothing. If anything I made it worse.”

“But you tried. That is what matters,” she corrected him and withdrew her hands from his. Reaching into the pocket of her dress, she pulled out a piece of curved iron about the size of her palm. She placed it on the table in front of him.

“A piece of the cauldron?” he asked hopefully, his eyes lighting up.

“I saved it as a memento of my son,” she replied softly, her eyes lingering on the broken piece of iron. “You will need it.”

“Then it is possible to repair it?” he asked, encouraged by her gift.

“It is, but you have to be careful. There are forces working against you?”

“Who? Can you tell me?”

“She hears everything so I dare not say her name aloud. It would only bring her wrath down on you. Just be careful. You are the one she hates, but she will try to get to you through the young ones.”

“Perhaps I should send them home.”

“No. They are safer with you. And if they survive until Imbolc, their union will return life and magic to the fey. She knows that, which is why she will try to separate them any way she can.”

Merlin nodded and took the piece of iron in hand. He could still feel the magic that it once radiated. Slipping it into the bad tied to his belt, he looked up and smiled. They talked until morning about more pleasant things. Stories from long ago and hope for the future. As light broke gray on the horizon she stood to leave. 

“Merlin, one day we will visit longer,” she said and planted a tender kiss on his forehead.

“Will I see you again in this lifetime, my lady?” 

“I do not know,” she replied. “I can not see into the future.” 

“Nor I,” he replied and stood up to walk her to the door. She passed through it and all the magic in the little run down cottage vanished with her. A chill quickly settled on the room. Merlin went outside to gather more firewood from Lancelot’s pile, his breath smoking in front of him. When he returned the fey knight was sitting up with a confused expression on his face.

“What did you do?” he asked, puzzled by how barren it suddenly looked.

“I? I did nothing,” Merlin said and tossed the gathered wood on the dying fire. He had it roaring in no time. When Nimue entered the room with the same confused expression on her face, he spoke up first, “I did not do this.”

“So what happened?” Nimue asked and looked around for Lancelot who was not in the room.

“He is out readying our horses, and the magic that created the illusion is gone,” he explained while drinking a cup of milk, his lady’s last gift to him.

“Who was she?” Nimue asked, seeing the affection in her father’s eyes.

“A friend from long long ago,” he answered and finished off the milk. 

“I hope she took her cow with her,” Nimue remarked with a smile. “If she didn’t we’ll be having steaks tonight. Let me go see if he needs any help.” 

Merlin sat a little longer at the table, his thoughts on those days when the world was young and the fey were one with nature not apart from it. Finally deciding it was time to go, he stood up with a contented sigh and grabbed his walking stick. When he exited the door, he stopped to look at his traveling companions. Nimue was wrapped in Lancelot’s arms, only the top of her head and feet visible beneath his great cloak. He had wrapped himself around her.

He slowly released her when Merlin approached them. The druid slipped his walking stick through one of the straps on the spotted pack pony, a little mare that Goliath was falling in love with. No doubt Oengus’ idea of a joke. 

That night they camped in the open by a clear stream. Lancelot killed some more trout for their supper. “Breac donn,” Merlin said in Gaelic as the fish cooked over the open fire. “Only the bradan is a better fish, and then some will argue with you,” he continued although Lancelot had never tasted salmon and could not compare them. Nimue had no interest in fish beyond what they tasted like, and these were pretty good. Along with some gathered herbs and mushrooms, not to mention the loaf of bread that never dwindled from Oengus’ larder they had a very good supper.

“Maybe one day we can return,” Merlin considered as he ate his fish, “and you can hunt salmon.” Looking down at Lancelot who was seated on the ground while he rested his backside on a fallen log, he added, “You are a very good fish hunter. I dare say the best fish hunter I have ever met.”

“The only fish hunter,” Nimue interrupted. “Everyone else uses a pole and line.”

Lancelot smiled. “I know that. I just have no patience when I’m hungry.”

Merlin noticed the looks that passed between them and was suddenly afraid. Who would hurt them to get back at him? The only one he could think who was openly mad at him was Morrigan, but he thought they had made peace. And where was she?

Nimue awoke during the night and listened to her father’s soft snore before moving to Lancelot’s side. She startled him awake, but when he saw it was her, he smiled and opened his cape to let her snuggle against his side where it was good and warm. Her hand slid down his body to his groin, which pleasantly surprised him. She worked the lacings open and very carefully removed his soft cock. When she bent over and took him into her mouth, he didn’t stay soft long and it was all he could do to stay quiet. 

She took her leg out of one legging and slowly settled on his cock. Keeping quiet least they wake Merlin, she rolled her lips against his pelvis bone finding just the right spot. She used him, and he loved it, the feel of her hot and wet folding around him. He held her waist and dropped his head against her breasts. Her climax triggered his. 

Open mouthed kisses swallowed any moans they made. Nimue decided that she would sleep where she was, astride him, his cock slowly sliding out of her pussy.

“I love you,” she whispered against his parted lips.


	7. Ulster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nemain has the second piece of the shard that they need but her price is blood or sex. Lancelot must either sleep with the war goddess or offer his throat. Nimue could also leave but that means they fail. 
> 
> Nimue lays lost souls to rest.

Merlin became less gregarious as the day progressed. They were entering the land of Neit and his wife Nemain. The trees were gnarled and twisted, the ground littered with dead leaves and bramble. Where life clung to the land elsewhere, it had given up entirely here. Winter clawed its way up rock face and down ravine. Streams were frozen over with thin sheets of ice and crystals hung from twisted branches and heavy black limbs. There were skeletons scattered here and there haphazardly thrown about, victims or sacrifices, no way to tell. 

The ruins of a ring fort appeared through the rabble but as with the Brug, its true identity was hidden from their eyes, but only for a moment. Merlin, the gift of true sight returning to him, called upon it to see the real fort that lay hidden from mens’ eyes. In place of the ruins a fort of stone and bone rose above the dead land. Burnt into the gate was the image of a raven.

The black gates swung open and warriors dressed in the garb of the ages, deformed and decaying bid them enter. Merlin nudged his horse forward. As they passed through it two women appeared, Morrigan and her sister.

“Please tell me haven’t ridden into a trap,” Merlin said and dismounted, motioning with a wave of his hand for Lancelot and Nimue to stay mounted. 

“I told you he doesn’t trust you,” Nemain reminded her sister of an earlier conversation. Possessing the same long black hair and brilliant blue eyes as Morrigan, the battle witch was her twin. Around Nemain’s neck hung a necklace of human finger bones interspersed with the canines of wolves. Looking up at the younger fey, she said, “Come down. We have much to talk about.”

Morrigan slipped her arm through Merlin’s. “Play nice,” she told him. “I’ve been telling them how good you are now. They think I’m lying.”

“You are,” Merlin said carefully. A headless man appeared and collected the reins of their horses and led them away. “I haven’t seen a Dullahan in centuries,” he remarked curiously. “Or is that a victim of war.”

“You were right the first time,” Nemain answered. Overhead on the battlement a flock of ravens turned their heads in unison to watch them pass.

Nimue, a claw of fear scratching at her thoughts, grabbed Lancelot’s arm. There was a dark intelligence in the birds that disturbed her. He eyed the birds with interest.

“My husband will return this evening,” Nemain said and led them into an antechamber that was bathed in a blue light and lit by fat wax candles sitting on animal skulls, many of them horse heads. There was no warmth in the room. Fine chairs covered in animal skins, at least Nimue prayed they were animal skins were offered to them. Mugs of good red wine were served by a being that was neither here nor there. Nimue could not help but stare at it. Lancelot seemed unconcerned by its presence, but then he never seemed to be alarmed by anything he could see. She wondered if this would also happen in England.

Merlin spent the time remembering old days with the two ban sidhe. Nemain was a grim woman with a dark sense of humor, a very dark sense of humor. She remembered all the major war the sidhe and fey, she even thought Boudicca’s fight against Suetonius was funny, much to Merlin’s chagrin, but he didn’t argue with her. 

Nimue found the more Nemain talked about the past, the more agitated she became. Violence should be a means to an end, not the reason for existing. She glanced at Lancelot who was deeply enthralled by the tales from the look on his face. “How do you keep yourself entertained these days?” Nimue finally asked the ban sidhe.

Nemain stopped speaking and looked at her. Merlin blanched and Lancelot froze. “How do I keep myself entertained?” the ancient war goddess asked curiously and glanced at her sister who was staring at Lancelot. “Certainly better than this one pining for warriors much too young for her.”

Morrigan laughed. “Look at him, he’s pretty.”

“And his blood would wake my land,” Nemain countered indifferently. “But neither of us are going to get what we want.” Turning to Merlin, she added, “Which means you may not either.”

Merlin took a deep breath. “We are trying to save the fey of England. Right now just their simple needs.”

Nemain looked at Merlin, something wicked gleaming in her eyes, and then she glanced at the young queen. “Blood or sex your majesty.”

Merlin realized quickly what Nemain was suggesting. “For my piece of the cauldron, give me your warrior for blood or sex. Your choice,” the raven witch explained. 

“No!” Nimue countered, “I can not do that.” She would not treat Lancelot like a commodity to be traded. There had to be another way to get the broken piece of iron. Lancelot dropped his gaze, his face hiding what he was thinking.

Nemain shrugged and started to get up. “Wait,” Lancelot stopped her and turned to Nimue. “You can not go back empty handed. I said I would do whatever you needed me to do. Even if it means my death.”

“No Emer, she,” Nemain said to the quiet Morrigan who was watching everything unfold with dark eyes. 

“Emer loved the Hound more than she loved her pride,” Morrigan replied quietly, her eyes on the young fey queen and her knight. Nemue was angry at Nemain and terrified for Lancelot. The girl would never let Nemain take his life, but she might permit use of his body. She could see it in her eyes. 

Nimue’s eyes flashing with anger at the two women finally admitted, “You put me in a terrible place….”

“That’s what I do,” Nemain answered indifferently. “Either my bed or my sword, or you can leave now.”

Nimue turned to Lancelot. She did not want him in THAT WOMAN’S bed, but she could not stand the thought of her taking a sword to him, spilling his blood upon her land. He was waiting for her decision, life or death. Her Lancelot was prepared to do either for her. She laid her hand upon his and turned back to Nemain. “I will not have you kill him.”

“Good. Then we dine and retire. Come, food is ready.” 

Merlin stood and leaned towards Morrigan. “Is this your doing?” he whispered tersely.

“It is now,” she answered without elaborating. Rising from her chair she brought up the rear as they all walked towards the dining room, where a table laden with food was waiting for them. 

This was the gluttony of a war goddess, Nimue picked at the food on her plate. This felt all wrong to her. There had to be another way. Nemain, sucking the meat off wild boar rib, looked at Lancelot and said, “Eat. You will need your strength.”

Morrigan finally turned to her sister and said, “You are not taking that all to yourself, are you?”

Nemain looked at Morrigan and considered it. “Sister, I think this young stallion can cover two old mares, don’t you?”

Morrigan smiled. “Indeed.”

There was nothing amusing about this to Morrigan. She didn’t look it, but she was old...no, not old, ancient. And in anyone’s book, this would be rape, and she had lived too long to stand by and let one of their youngest and most needed warriors be raped or slain on the whim of her sister. 

Nemain’s magic was lust…for war or sex it didn’t matter. Her touch could arouse lust, the type unimportant to her. Morrigan’s power could be sex or something else because she could give or take whether it was passion or courage or fear. With a kiss to his bare shoulder she removed his fear, her hands sliding provocatively down his strong arms while Nemain undressed and joined them on the bed. She went straight for his mouth, sealing whatever protest he might have with a kiss of lust. Passion flared, and she used the young fey knight hard. Deep in lust she bit him hard on the left breast and drew blood, staining her lips with their magic.

“Nemain, where is the piece of iron?” Morrigan asked as if through a dream. “You owe it to him.”

“In the golden skull,” Nemain answered and used her sharp nails on his body. She craved blood and sex, and he sated her as no one had in a long long time. 

Morrigan left the bed and retrieved the piece of iron after Nemain fell asleep, a little help from Morrigan’s own magic. Lancelot fully clothed stood at the door waiting. Morrigan handed him the piece of iron and said, “Whenever anyone asks, what you saw happened. I think we need to get out of her lands tonight.” 

She and Lancelot hurried back to Nimue and Merlin who had guessed right about Morrigan. She had not betrayed them. They hurried to the stables, got their horses and rode out of the ring fort. Morrigan on a glowing white mare led the way. And they didn’t stop until they were safe.

On lands that did not smell of blood or death, they stopped and made camp. Lancelot gave the broken chard the size of a large plate to Merlin. One more piece of the cauldron. Being unable to tell Nimue that nothing had happened, that Morrigan had created an illusion for her sister, Lancelot could only hold her in his arms and assure her that he was all right. She finally slept in his arms, but he could not sleep now that he knew what was out there. He could rest, but he could not bring himself to lose consciousness. 

Had he gone to Nemain’s bed, he would have given blood and seed to her, and the image of it sent dark thoughts into his head. By the grace of God…and Morrigan…his blood was not spilled hot upon the dead forest. Nor had he spilled seed into the womb of the battle goddess. How Morrigan had accomplished this, he did not know, but what he witnessed seem real enough to him. She called him a Fetch. Was there now someone somewhere who looked like him bearing Nemain’s claw marks upon his skin?

Something supernatural passed them in the darkness, but it didn’t stop and Lancelot did not go after it. Being fey did not necessarily mean harmful; Nimue was teaching this to him. Across the dying fire from him and Nimue, Morrigan and Merlin slept beside each other although not exactly touching. There was comfort in familiarity. Lancelot did not understand Morrigan, but he was grateful for what she had done in Nemain’s bed. Watching what she would have done to him made him more thoughtful. What was morality? What was good…and evil? Were some things simply just so? 

An unwanted thought flashed through his mind. What if Nimue stopped loving him when they returned to England, when she was back with Arthur? When she was surrounded by the memories of what he had done to her people. What was going to happen to him? She would have no need for him and cast him aside. 

Lancelot held Nimue closer to his heart. Shoving the dark thoughts out of his head, he kissed the top of her head and brushed her hair with his lips. She had said she loved him and would not discard him.

In the morning Merlin looked at the list of names and decided their next stop would be Lough Derg between the Blue Stack Mountains and Lough Erne, a two day ride through some of the most tragically beautiful land in all of Eire. This was Ulster and the land was soaked with the blood of mortals and fey alike. Great battles had been fought here, great kings had died here, great heroes had shed their life’s blood over pride and the possession of cattle. They would surely see the Bananach, the spirits that haunted battle grounds, as they crossed these lands. 

Morrigan did not say anything, but Merlin had to know the lake they were going to was inhabited by Dhobhur-cu, and the piece of iron they were looking for was in the middle of it on a piece of land made of ground bones and death. And those dhobhur-cu would be a match for two Lancelots.

That night the Bananach came to them, attracted by Nimue’s life force, and to a lesser degree the others. Like lost souls they came to her light. Nimue did not fear them; they presented no threat to her or those with her. Troubled spirits who died too soon, she laid her hand upn each lost soul and gave them peace sending them on to whatever afterlife awaited them. Merlin watched as procession after procession came to her and disappeared with shouts of jubilation. He had never seen anything like it. Morrigan had seen this once before centuries earlier when Airmid set the lost souls free around her.  
Lancelot, his face glowing with wonder and awe, stared at Nimue as if she were his goddess, his reason for living. Perhaps she was.

When all got quiet, Nimue sat down heavily on the ground, drained. Lancelot took her into his arms and held her protectively. She was his life, he knew this with all the certainty of the heavens. Surely God would not create something this wonderful and damn her soul to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bananach are battle field ghosts, lost souls.   
> The Dhobur-cu are water monsters that are thought to be giant otters...or water dogs.


	8. St. Patrick's Purgatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A piece of the kettle is at a church in the middle of Lough Derg. How do you steal from a church?

The two day’s ride ended up being three, the weather and terrain slowing the horses down. The mountains in the distance were already frosted with snow, and the horsemen could tell it would be descending into the valleys in a short while. Worrying about her people, Nimue wondered if it would be possible for her and Lance to perform the rite out in the open in the cold. Lancelot was up for anything where sex with Nimue was concerned but a turn in the weather forced them to seek shelter in one of the many caves that dotted the landscape. 

Of course caves were places of magic and one could stand at the mouth of cave and stare out at forever. Lancelot and Merlin gathered firewood and Morrigan used magic to dry it out quickly. A nice fire chased the chill away, but it would eventually come back and they needed to be settled by then. And settled on this night meant a warm woman in your arms with a saddle pack under your head. For Lancelot and Nimue it was a familiar position. Morrigan and Merlin had to work on it. 

During the night a family of wild cats entered the cave and made their beds near the cavern wall. A solitary fox actually bedded down near the fire. They all left before the fey awakened, but Lancelot knew they had been there. 

“We had visitors last night,” he told Nimue with a smile on his face as he repacked their saddle bags.

“What kind?”

“A fox and some cats.”

“I wish I had seen them,” she replied with a wistful smile. Once the horses were saddled, they rode out into the chilly morning. The ground crunched beneath their hooves, but within the hour they were topping a ridge and pausing to gaze out across a long narrow valley. In the distance frosted with snow a blue mountain range rose above the valley.

Merlin led them into the valley, Lancelot bringing up the rear. By midday they were standing at the edge of Lough Derg, and Merlin was horrified. “There’s a church on our island,” he said in amazement. “I thought you said there would be dobharcus and lake monsters. Instead we are going to be facing monks….no offense.”

“None taken,” Lancelot answered.

“I haven’t been here in a thousand years,” Morrigan replied defensively. “How was I to know they would build a church on THAT island.”

“What we need is there,” Merlin continued. “There is supposed to be a cave on the island and the shard we need is there.” Looking around for a way to cross to the island, he said, “I would rather deal with dobharcus.” Spying a dock with a pair of curracgs tied to it, they walked over to see if anyone would take them to the island. 

“I’ll stay with the horses,” Morrigan offered. “No monk is going to believe I’m one of them.” To Nimue, she said, “You’ll need to cover your hair.”

“Or I could stay with you and not upset the monks,” Nimue offered. 

“Cowards,” Merlin snipped and looked up at Lancelot. “They have a point but you don’t.”

“I said nothing,” Lancelot spoke up in defense of himself.

“You don’t have to. Come on, let’s see how much it will cost to sail over to the island. And we have to leave our weapons here.”

Nimue and Morrigan watched the currach slide across the water towards the island. “He really was looking forward to seeing a dobharcu,” Morrigan remarked as she waved her fingers at Merlin.

“I think Lancelot was too,” Nimue added wishing now that she was going with them, although an island of monks did not appeal to her. And there probably wasn’t any room for her on the boat.

The currach beached and the oarsman said, “I’ll be back in three days.” And he shoved off.

“Three days?” Merlin muttered to himself. “I do not plan on being here three days.” Lancelot didn’t say anything; some monks were coming to welcome them. 

“Brothers,” the elder of the two greeted them with extended hands. “Welcome to St. Patrick’s Purgatory. “I am Brother Aedan and this is Brother Daniel. You will find inner peace as you fast and pray for the next three days.”

Merlin grimaced at the thought of fasting for three days. “I am honored to meet you Brother Aedan, this is my son Bradan.” Appreciating his own joke, Merlin explained, “His mother had a love of fish.”

“This fishing is excellent here,” Brother Daniel included. 

Merlin looked around, noting that everything was wrapped in winter brown…except. “Is that Crios Conchulainn growing there?” he asked and pointed at the lush blooming white flowers.

“We prefer to call it meadowsweet, but aye, isn’t it remarkable?” Brother Aedan replied and led them to the very shallow iron planter. “They bloom year round without any help from us. A true miracle from God.”

A miracle all right but not from God. Merlin recognized the bottom portion of the Dagda’s cauldron. He knelt down on one knee and ran his hands over it. He could feel the magic rolling off it. Glancing up at Lancelot, he said, “We have certainly come to the right place.”

Lancelot gazed thoughtfully at the piece of iron and knew without a doubt his soul was going to burn for all eternity, because they were about to rob a church. The brothers led them to the chapel where they could pray in peace as they were the only guests on the island. Kneeling at the alter in the candle lit church, the smell of honey filling the air, Merlin looked at Lancelot and whispered, “I didn’t realize it was that big. We won’t be able to just tuck it under our cloaks and run.”

“We’ll need our own currach,” Lancelot realized aloud.

Merlin thought hard. Where was Scuabatuinne, the Sweeper of the Waves? Who got it after Lugh was killed? If only he could contact Morrigan or better yet Nemglan. “Can you reach out to Nimue?”

“I have to be touching a green plant.”

“The flowers. If you can reach her, tell her to send Morrigan this way.” When Lancelot hesitated, Merlin said, “Do it now before they go somewhere else.”

Lancelot made the sign of the cross and rose from his knees. 

“I can’t believe I’m about to rob a church.”

“It was ours first,” Merlin reminded him. “Don’t be long.”

Going from Christian rites to pagan ritual was making Lancelot a little disorientated. Keeping his head down and his hands clasped in prayer, he returned to the meadowsweets and ran his hand over them. Keeping it hidden as best he could, he reached out to Nimue. Several heart beats later she appeared to him.

“Is everything all right?” she asked, her background indicating she was indoors somewhere.

“We found it.”

“Where?”

Lancelot lowered his gaze to the flowers. “Merlin needs to see Morrigan. I have to go.”

Nimue watched him vanish and turned to her roommate in the hostel run by the Sisters of Eternal Grace, yes she and Morrigan were hanging out with nuns. “Seems that they found the piece they were looking for, but Merlin wants to see you.”

“I should fly over now,” Morrigan teased. “Give the monks a big thrill, but I’ll go tonight.”

Merlin was beginning to think she wasn’t coming when the large back raven settled on the dry lawn. Within seconds she was Morrigan cloaked all in black from head to toe. “It’s about time,” he greeted impatiently.

“You didn’t want me to come in the middle of six o’clock mass did you?” she retorted.

“I need you to find my currach.”

Morrigan looked at him as if he were crazy. “Do you have any idea where it might be?” she asked.

“Maybe Naas? I don’t know. Find Nemglan and ask him to send his birds out.”

“It might take a few days.”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Merlin retorted. “I just hope they don’t try to baptize me before you get back.” 

Morrigan looked up at the silent Lancelot. Such a tall sweet baby. Slipping her arms around his neck she kissed him. A little magic got his lips parted for a slip of the tongue. And then she released him. “That’s from Nimue,” she said and flew away.

Merlin snorted, “Nimue, my ass.” 

Sleep depravation did not bother them; they were fey after all and sleep was not essential to their existence. And fasting, while annoying to a man used to several meals a day, did not weaken them, but the constant praying and pretending to pray was taking its toll on Merlin. Lancelot taught him a few lines to speak in the presence of the monks, who owed their lives to the fact that Lancelot had left his swords with Nimue and Merlin could not convince him to just strangle them.

On the third day without any sign of Nemglan or Morrigan, they stepped into the rented currach for the ride back to mainland. Merlin didn’t know how they were going to get back to the island, but he was not leaving without that piece of the cauldron. Half way to the shore, a large white cob flew by with a raven following. Nemglan! And he had something around his neck on a leather string. His currach! It had to be Sweeper of the Waves!

Merlin and Lancelot were dropped off at the pier, where they were met by Nimue. Did she ask her father how he was doing? Or did she throw her arms around Lancelot and not come up for air for several seconds?

“People are staring,” Merlin warned her. “I mean I can’t remember if he’s your brother or not.” Gazing out at the large swan floating by, he said, “You’re late.” The swan flapped his wings but settled back in the water. “I am going to get something to eat…please tell me there is food around here somewhere…and when it’s dark we’ll come back.” 

The Sisters of Eternal Grace served hot oatmeal flavored with cream and honey. Merlin ate because he was starving. Morrigan joined him and together they watched Nimue and Lancelot try to flirt without anyone noticing.

“You realize everyone knows what you are doing,” Merlin remarked and stuffed a wooden spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth. Nimue moved her hand from Lancelot’s thigh and scowled at her father.

Morrigan turned to Merlin and asked with a smile, “Were we ever like that?”

“Like what?” he asked and shoveled more oatmeal into his mouth.

“Innocent.”

Merlin thought about it as his daughter scowled at him. “Never.”

Morrigan arched a fine black brow and finished her oatmeal. Humans ate horrible food. How were they ever capable of driving the sidhe underground?

Once it was good and dark, and they had their horses saddled and ready, they returned to the lake where Nemglan waited in swan form for them. Merlin took the leather thong from his neck and held the small palm sized object for the first time in centuries. “The Sweeper of the Waves,” he said in awe and started unfolding the currach.

Nimue and Lancelot watched in amazement as the small leather packet grew bigger with every unfold. This was real magic. Soon a full sized currach settled in the water. “Get in,” Merlin told Lancelot. “Nemglan we will need you.” The swan hissed and flapped his enormous wings to rise gracefully from the water. Morrigan shifted into a raven and joined him. Nimue wasn’t going to be left behind this time and jumped into the leather boat. 

“Take us to the island,” Merlin said once he was settled. Without oar or wind the magical currach backed from the shore and slid smoothly across the water. Nimue grabbed Lancelot’s arm as they covered the distance without a ripple of water. Nemglan and Morrigan, still in bird forms, waited for them. Nemglan shifted into his very naked human form and helped pull the currach up to the bank. Nimue stayed in the Sweeper

The three men quietly approached the planter and studied it for a moment. “Save the flowers?” Nemglan asked Merlin. 

“Leave them in the hole, maybe they won’t notice,” Merlin said. “Lancelot, use your dagger to loosen the dirt.”

Lancelot withdrew his dagger and jabbed it into the soil around the edge of the pot. Only the bottom part was the cauldron, but the planter had been added to. Once the flowers were free, the men could removed the extra part, put it in the hole and return the flowers to it. Merlin picked it up and carried it quickly back to the currach setting it in the middle of the boat. Lancelot hopped in and grabbed the edges Merlin climbed in last and with a thought sent the boat back across the waters.

They packed the large piece of iron on the pony mare while Nimue stroked her head. Then Merlin took the currach out the water, folded it back into a small package and slipped it into his pocket. Morrigan assumed her human form and mounted her white mare. Nemglan flew home. 

Merlin paused a moment to decide which way they should go. The sea was pulling at him, beckoning him home. Turning his horse towards the southwestern end of the valley, he urged his horse on. They would reach the coast by noon the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> St. Patrick's Purgatory does exist in Lough Derg and a church sits over a cave that is supposed to lead to purgatory hence the name.
> 
> There are lots of St. Patrick and the sidhe stories. He got along better with them than the Red Paladines. In fact there is a story where Patrick and Oengus Og meet over the fate of a sidhe woman.


	9. Shelter for the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin finds shelter for his little troop, but what he expects of them eventually brings Lancelot to laughter.

Gazing out of the crashing waves of the western Irish coast, Merlin felt himself slip into another time when he was Lord of the Waves, the High Druid of the Tuathe de Danann. When the Sword of Power was one of many created by him and answered to only those strong enough to weld it, another time when gods walked the earth. Morrigan stood with him, remembering what lay out there under the waves. Holding her dark cloak tight to her body, she also remembered another time. 

As cold as it was with the winter spray hitting him, Merlin did not feel the cold. He was lost in his thoughts. “Do you ever see her?” he finally asked Morrigan.

She knew who he was talking about and said, “Sometimes. She is an honored guest at many siths but does not stay long at any of them.”

“I would like to see her if I can,” he said softly, more to himself than to Morrigan.

“Do you want me to try and find her?” she asked.

Merlin took a deep breath and replied, “ No, that won’t be necessary. She might not even recognize me now.” He stopped, his eyes fixing on something in the water. Amid the frothing waves something was materializing. Recognition filled Merlin’s face as a white horse with a brown head appeared out of the wavers. Morrigan’s mouth fell open in amazement as the mare dripping wet waded through the surf towards them.

“Enbarr,” Merlin whispered in awe. “Enbarr,” he spoke louder and extended his hand towards her.

Nimue snuggling in Lancelot’s arms as he leaned against a boulder, untangled herself and stood up straighter. What was this coming out of the water? “It’s a horse,” she said and ran over to see it. Lancelot thought he might scare it away and stayed where he was. 

You scare everything the voice in his head taunted him. It was clearer this time. Just his own guilt he told himself for all the terrible things he had done. But it was right; he scared everything. 

Nimue waded into the water and extended her hand towards the magical mare. Enbarr pricked her ears but stood her ground, letting Nimue pet her. “She’s beautiful,” Nimue told her father. “Where did she come from?”

“Tir n’og,” Merlin answered with an affectionate smile on his face.

Morrigan, enjoying this odd little family reunion, glanced back at Lancelot and noticed a troubled look on his face. Taking a step back she turned towards him. His eyes shot up the moment she started towards him. “Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked and leaned against the boulder beside him.

“Nothing to discuss,” he answered wearily. “I’ve done some very bad things and don’t deserve this.” 

“If we got what we deserved, Merlin and I would be far worse off,” she answered and folded her arms across her chest as the wind picked up. “All you can do is live for now.”

“I tell myself that, but it still hurts what I did.”

“As long as you have someone who loves you, you are a blessed man, and that girl loves you.”

“But what about when we return to England? Will she love me there?”

Morrigan could see the doubt and fear in his eyes. He was terrified. “Women do not fall in and out of love over night,” she assured him. Seeing the white mare turn and return to the sea, she straightened and said, “Now for the fun part.” 

From the coast they headed east into the valley of the River Finn. They needed to find shelter before it got dark, leading Merlin to think they would have to make a cold camp, but then he spied a farm with a large cattle barn. “Nimue, can you ride side saddle?” he asked her as they approached the cozy little farmstead. 

“Why do I need to ride sidesaddle?” she asked her father.

“Because you are in a motherly way and if asked you are Kathleen, and I am seeking shelter in their barn for the night,” he answered. “Baran is your husband. Mary Kate is my wife, but not your mother.” Drawing rein on the narrow dirt road, Merlin dismounted and walked up to the door, rapping on it with his walking stick. A red faced red haired man opened the door, and a half dozen smaller faces peered up at him. “Greetings, good sir, my family and I have not made it to our destination tonight, and I was hoping we might have use of your barn for the night. My daughter is expecting, and I am reluctant to make a cold camp with her in her condition.”

A woman’s voice sounded loudly in the background. “Colm, invite them in. We canna be inhospitable on a night like this.” Merlin thanked whomever set that grand and noble lady here. He could smell food cooking.

Colm stepped aside and said, “ Dewey, go help with their horses.” A boy of twelve ran outside to help their visitors. “Come in, come in. Don’t be strangers.”

Nimue, bundled up, walked with her hands on her abdomen, something Morrigan showed her how to do. Lancelot, the devoted husband, supported her elbow. Once he got his ‘wife’ inside the warm cottage, he went back to take care of the horses and ponies.

Mrs. O’Toole, wife of Colm, was excited at having guests. Not many visitors traveling through this time o’year. “Here’s a nice cup of herbal tea,” she said and handed Nimue a cup, her finest one, of yellowish tea. “Tis sweetened with honey.” She poured one for Morrigan and then one for Merlin.

“You’re very kind,” he said and took a curious sip of tea. Oh yes, lots of honey in this one. “My name is Uí Laoghaire, and this is my daughter Kathleen and my wife Mary Katherine.” Merlin was proud of himself for pulling that one off. When Lancelot and the boy entered the cottage, he said, “Me daughter’s husband Baran.”

“ A cuppa herbal tea?” Mrs. O’Toole said and poured him a cup. There was no escaping Mrs. O’Toole’s herbal tea. “Thomas, get up an’ let our guest have the chair. She’ll be wanting her good man to sit beside her.” 

Merlin quickly noted that Mrs. O’Toole was hungry for conversation about the word outside of the river valley, and he did his best to accommodate her, while her good man mostly listened. Finally when his wife turned away to tend her cook fire, he looked at Merlin and asked, “What brought you ought this way with your family, Mr. Uí Laoghaire?”

“A special visit to St, Patrick’s Purgatory to fulfill a dying request,” Merlin answered most solemnly. “I needed Baran with me, an he couldna leave his wee colleen behind.” 

“Good man yah are,” Mrs. O’Toole told Lancelot and stirred a stew that smelled remarkably like lamb.

Merlin inhaled the wonderful aroma and turned to Colm and asked, “Would yah be interested in a wee bit of drink we carry with us to keep the chill away?”

Colm’s eyes lit up brightly. “A nip might be good to chase the chill away.”

Lancelot automatically got up and headed for the door. “You have him well trained,” Morrigan remarked under her breath and took another sip of herbal tea. She winked at Lancelot as he passed.

When he returned with the flask of whiskey, a medium sized dog followed him into the house. He and Nimue fell in love with each other instantly. The dog was a wiggling mass as it introduced itself to her. “Thet’s Beggar,” one the red haired children said of the shaggy haired dog. “He likes badgers.”

“Don’t the badgers fight him?” Nimue asked curiously, surprised that anyone would like a badger.

Lancelot leaned towards her and said, “He likes to fight with them.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” she asked, her eyes locked on Lancelot’s. How long has it been since they lay naked in each other’s arms?

“I imagine so,” he replied and rubbed his hand over the dog’s scarred head. Nimue stroked the smooth fur and for a moment she and Lancelot touched, just hands, but the heat and magic that jumped between them was palatable. Thankfully the two people who would probably sense it were sharing a drop o whiskey in the tea with the mortals. Naturally the older children noticed and giggled. The oldest girl Brigid shooed them away and offered Nimue some more tea. She was getting close to marrying age and probably saw herself with a good man too.

Sitting at the table across from them, a cup of buttermilk in hand, she asked, “When is your little one comin’?”

Nimue thought quickly. “It will be awhile, next spring.”

“Aw. He’ll be a fine son, I’m sure.” Apparently among the mortals a firstborn son was the pick of the litter. Nimue just smiled. “What name have yah chosen?”

“We haven’t decided,” Lancelot came to the rescue. It was hard to get annoyed with someone who was living their fantasy through you. Even though it’s a lie? Lancelot ignored the voice. Nimue squeezed his hand and drew his eyes to hers. Had she sensed something?

“What family does Baran belong to?” Colum asked and savored his drop of whiskey. “I might know of’em.”

“He’s an Uí Laoghaire. His poor mother appeared on my doorstep when my first wife, god rest her soul, was alive an we took her in. Such a sad little creature she was. Naturally bein’ good Christians, we couldna turn her away. When Baran was born, we raised him as our own.”

Lancelot leaned towards Nimue and whispered, “Did he just make me a bastard?”

“I believe so,” she answered and tried to suppress a giggle. “At least we’re not brother and sister.”

“Well yah did a fine job’o raisin’ such a strappin’ young man,” Colm said as his good wife dug out bowls for the stew. 

“I’m proud of him,” Merlin confessed.

Lancelot stared at him and a chuckle turned into a laugh. This was all so absurd it was funny. He looked at Merlin who was grinning back at him, but he didn’t say anything to expose Merlin’s nonsense. And for the first time in a long while something loosened inside of Lancelot, something good and kind. Nimue smiled and rubbed his back. If only they didn’t have to go back.

After supper and the dishes were washed and dried by Brigid and Nimue, who insisted on helping, the sleeping arrangements were worked out. They would have impressed a general in the field. Morrigan got to sleep with the three little girls, while Nimue shared a bed with Brigid and the next oldest girl, all nice and snug. Merlin joined the wee ones in the loft, while the older boys stoked the fire and joined Lancelot on the floor. Mrs. O’Toole made sure he was wrapped in a warm quilt with a pillow of lambs wool under his head. Was this what it was like to be tucked into bed by a caring mother? Before dark thoughts could enter his mind, the two older boys rolled over and whispered questions to him. What all had he seen? What was the scariest thing that he had ever done? What’s kissing a girl like, that from the oldest boy. Lancelot told them of all the places he had seen, although he was careful to keep it Irish. Dublin filled their adventurous imaginations, but they were soon they drifting off to sleep. Lancelot closed his eyes to rest. Beggar curled up between him and one of the boys. 

The cottage was still wrapped in darkness when Lancelot awakened. Removing the quilt he laid it across the boys lying near him. Beggar looked up with anticipation on his face. Lancelot smiled and told the dog he had to stay. Digging his bow out of his pack, he quickly strung it and took one arrow out of the quiver. Before he could get out the door, Nimue appeared fully dressed and ready to go. She didn’t have to say anything and he was too smart to argue.

The dark held no horror to their eyes. They could see as well in its company as in the light, although the fog was bothersome, but Lancelot used all his senses when he hunted. He was after a wild boar that came in to eat acorns. He had seen their signs earlier. Giving Nimue a push into the largest tree, he left some scraps from last night’s supper on the ground to draw them in and climbed up after her. He positioned himself astride a sturdy limb to wait out their appearance. A young sow was preferred, but he would settle for whatever appeared. Nimue pressed against his back but soon slipped herself under his cloak. Her hands met around his waist, and if she could have found skin to keep them warm, she would have tugged and pulled to locate it.

Lancelot smiled but paid her no real mind. When he heard the pigs rooting nearby, he removed the cloak and gave it to her. Knocking the arrow he drew the string back and waited. A mortal’s arms might shake from such a wait but his were steady, his senses alert for the scavenging animals. When he could discern them from one another, he released the arrow, striking a young sow in the heart. She died instantly. He waited for the others to flee before swinging down to claim his kill. Nimue, his cloak hanging off her, climbed down a little more slowly. She found him tying the animal’s feet together then hanging it down his back. It was a good sized animal but still growing.

The family was up when they returned. “For your hospitality,” Lancelot greeted and hung the kill by its feet from a sturdy tree near the shed. A quick slice of his hunting knife had the animal gutted and the entrails collected in a pan provided by the children. Nothing would go to waist.

Colm amazed at the size of the animal that he had lugged back told Merlin, “A fear maith that one.”

“Aye, quite a fear maith,” Merlin agreed and took note of his daughter partially hidden by the cloak. “Warm?”  
“I was warmer,” she replied, saying it loud enough for Lancelot to hear.

“Well go inside, girl. Me good wife has fixed some hot food for you to have before you leave.”

No one had to beg Nimue to run inside and grab some breakfast.

The sun was in front of them burning off the fog as they headed east out of the river valley. Merlin feared pleasant company was going to become a thing of the past as they rode out to find what was left of Crom Cruiach, the bloody god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donegal is full of mountain rangers and the Valley of the River Finn runs east and west.
> 
> this little chapter was written for a nimulot challenge.


	10. Into the Realm of the Harvest god

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin allows Nimue and Lancelot a night together before entering the realm of the havest god Crom Cruach.
> 
> Morrigan brings Lancelot the personal sword of Oengus Og, the great fury.

Merlin led them across a flat land of great beauty to a place where several lakes joined together to make one. Finding the first alehouse with rooms to rent, he stopped for the night. All the joviality of the previous days was missing, and neither Nimue nor Lancelot knew why, but Morrigan knew. In ancient times before the coming of Patrick, the mortals would sacrifice their own kind, the first born of man and animal, to Crom Cruach to ensure good harvests and milk. They would be entering the lair of this forgotten Death king to retrieve something Crom despised. Morrigan feared if they made one wrong move, they would lose one or both of their babies. 

At supper Merlin put on a pleasant face, but after a day of his silent melancholy, Nimue wanted to know what was going on. He hesitated, but Morrigan spoke up, “You need to let them know what we are going to face tomorrow. You owe it to them.”

Merlin nodded his head a little too vigorously before saying, “Crom Cruach is a harvest god, originally anyway. He belonged to an older group of fey that were here when the Danann arrived. Since we were gods of the sky, we left the harvest to him, but it was inevitable that we would clash. He demanded sacrifice, human and animal, from us.”

“With Balor supporting him and Nuada incapacitated, Bres, the high king at the time, gave into his demands. Of course the more powerful fey refused his demands, and in time a revolt rose up. War like you’ve never seen. It was all or nothing. Someone we thought was a champion rose up and brought down Balor and sent Crom back into his underworld kingdom, but he was half Fomorian and every bit as cruel as the other Fomorians.”

“We could not have won without him,” Morrigan interjected. 

“I know, and I gave my best council, but he would not listen. Once he became high king he turned on his old allies.” 

Morrigan reached over and rubbed his shoulder. “Ogma brought about his own fall.”

“But we had all taken an oath to be brothers in arms, forever. I had saved his life and look what he did to Tailtiu. She raised him.”

Nimue and Lancelot listened intently, hearing a history that they had only heard in pieces. “Father,” Nimue quietly ventured. “Who were you?”

Merlin looked at his daughter, sadness and resolve on his face. “I have lived many lives, and in those days I was Manannan mac Lir.” 

Even Lancelot knew of Manannan mac Lir. He had an island named for him, and tales abounded in Scotland of the High Druid of the Tuathe de Danann. The most terrible druid of them all according to Father Carden. “That’s why the church feared you?” he asked Merlin.

“I imagine,” Merlin admitted. Looking gently at his daughter, he said, “Tomorrow we will enter the halls of that bloody bastard. I will use everything in my power to obtain the piece of the caldron that he holds without either of you being hurt.”

“Nimue should stay here if it’s dangerous,” Lancelot spoke up firmly.

“I will not be left behind,” she countered passionately and glared at him. “You certainly don’t expect me to wait here?”

“You’ll be safer,” Lancelot replied, his voice dropping a degree.

“So I wait to see if you come back alive? All of you?” she asked and looked with accusing eyes at her father. “No. We all go together or not at all.”

“The queen has spoken,” Merlin said and finished off his ale. “I’m going to take a short walk before turning in. Coming?” he asked Morrigan. She stood up and he placed her hand in the curve of his elbow. They walked outside into the darkening sky. 

Lancelot was being distant and Nimue did not like that. He was still thinking about their discussion at supper. Even in their room as they undressed he was not coming to her playfully and excited. He undressed with his back to her, and she decided if he preferred to talk instead of making love, so be it. She laid her hand upon his scarred back and asked, “How did you get these?”

He glanced over his shoulder and lied, “They are nothing.”

“Who did this?” she persisted and kissed the one over his heart. 

He turned now and gently grabbed her arms. “I would die if anything happened to you,” he said now, his heart and soul burning in his eyes. “You are the only thing good in my life.” Even though he was holding her at arms length, she moved forward and laid her head against his breast where she could hear the rapid beat of his heart, feel the warmth of his skin against her face. His hands moved to hold her head to his body, his lips brushing the top of her head. “Merlin is afraid and that frightens me,” he whispered into her hair. “Not for myself but for you.”

She raised her face and stopped his protests with a kiss. Soft, sweet and tender. He licked her lips and parted them, slipping his tongue inside to tease her tender mouth. Sinking into their growing passion, Nimue ran her hand down his body to stroke him, to fill her hand with the weight of him. Now he laughed and turned her towards the bed. He had something different in mind for her and sat her on the edge of it, opening her thighs while he sat between them. He kissed her right knee and took a light nip out of it, and then he brushed his lips along her thigh. Her fingers curled in his hair and loosened the tie, sending it falling over his shoulders. When he lifted his eyes to her face, he was innocence and sin all wrapped into one, although there was no such thing as sin among the fey.

Lancelot nuzzled her pussy and then licked it open, his tongue sliding over nerves that sparked under his tender care. Nimue thought she would fall apart, but he now knew exactly what he was doing and was in no hurry. She fell back on the bed, and he gazed up her body at her heaving breasts. He would feast on them before the night was over, savoring the way they felt in his mouth, loving the way she moaned when he did. But now. He slipped two fingers inside of her and pressed his mouth to her clit, running his tongue over the swollen bud, She gasped suddenly and grabbed his head, her entire body tensing up. He stayed with her until she could take it no more and pushed his head away.

Self satisfied he rose on his knees and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. When Nimue gazed down at him, her gorgeous body boneless with pleasure, he stood up. Nimue’s eyes went to his erection, harder than she had ever seen it. Then before he realized what she was doing, she sat up and grabbed it, her mouth closing around the weeping head.

Salt touched her tongue and she knew it was from him. Slowly she swallowed him, listening to his heavy breathing and low moans for her clues. He filled her mouth and she didn’t think she would be able to take all of him but she wanted him, all of him, and she opened her throat. He rested his hands on her shoulders and spread his legs wider. This actually made it easier for her. Holding his cock with one hand while fellating him, she used her free hand to heft his balls and a gently rub the very sensitive place between his thighs. She was not prepared for his orgasm and gagged, breaking into laughter as she wiped her chin with the back of her hand. He was embarrassed and started to apologize, but she took his cock back into her mouth and licked it clean, shutting him up for many minutes.

Once they were both lying on the bed with Nimue sheltered in his arms, he brushed his face against her hair. They didn’t need to speak, the connection between them wide open. They could feel each other as completely as if they were one living being. 

Snuggling with her leg over his hip, she planted soft kisses on his mouth while he ‘rested’, his eyes closed and a sexy smile on his lips. Nimue had never been so open to him, so intimately connected that she sensed something about him that surprised her. The scars on his back came from his own hand. He moved his head so he could meet her eye to eye. He knew.

“See why I didn’t tell you,” he whispered,, his voice dark and rich. Nimue kissed him. Slow with growing passion. He took her face in his strong hands and devoured her lips. Her sweet tender lips. She rolled on her back, and he pressed her into the mattress, but he was too heavy and rolled to his side. Leaning on his left elbow, he caressed her breasts with his right hand and then took the one closest to him into his mouth. Nimue writhed in pleasure. This time he trapped her between his fingers and lips. With a touch almost too light he brought her again, his lips swallowing her moans. She raised her knees and he settled between them, his cock sliding into her wet pussy with ease. She was almost too wet. Rising on his hands he slipped inside of her. Nimue tightened her pelvic muscles and gripped him tighter, but Morrigan in an off moment had told her to get rough with his nipples, and it would shoot straight down to his cock. Nimue ran her hands over his burning skin. His nipples were dark against his pale skin. Nimue pinched as hard as she could. Morrigan was right. That little bite of pain shot through his brain and triggered an orgasm. He threw his head back, his hips pistoning into her, each stroke slower until he collapsed on top of her. For a moment she carried his full weight before he rolled off her. 

“I think that’s it for me,” he purred like some great contented lion. He drew her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

Lancelot fell asleep, his head on her shoulder. He didn’t keep it there long, though, He turned over and unwound his long frame showing her his back. She stared at the terrible scars that marred the smoothness of his skin but did not try to touch them least she disturb his sleep. Nimue eventually fell asleep and before morning she was tucked warmly against his body. 

When they came downstairs in the morning, Morrigan had something waiting for Lancelot. The sword was the Great Fury, the killing sword of Oengus mac Og, a twin in power to Fragarach, the sword that Merlin carried.

“I hope you never need it,” she said and presented it to him. “You can make it smaller to wear on the thong around your neck, but it will increase in size once you wrap your fist around it and speak its name.”

“We don’t want anyone to know what we carry them,” Merlin explained, “unless it is absolutely necessary. These swords are coveted by many.” Lancelot could understand that as he held the sword up for a better look. “If you ever need it you will understand why it is called the Great Fury.”

“To make it smaller, just point it to the ground and say Smaller,” Morrigan explained. Lancelot tried it and got the desired result. “Wear it under your shirt,” she told him. Lancelot tucked it under his tunic.

“Let’s go,” Merlin said and led them to the stables where they got their horses and turned south. A half-day of steady riding put them in the realm of the harvest god Crom Cruach. With mortal eyes the countryside looked at rest, but the eyes of the fey saw what was hidden from their view, a great gaping maw of a cave descending into the earth. Not wanting to leave the horses unattended Merlin rode into the cave and the others followed. With the entrance still in view, he dismounted and secured the reins to a piece of jutting rock. Each horse was secured to the one in front of it. If they needed to make a quick exit, they didn’t want anything to slow them down. 

Lancelot did not like the smell his own instincts telling him this was not a good place to be. Now he really wished Nimue had stayed behind. “Maybe you should stay with the horses,” he suggested nervously.

“Divide and conquer,” Merlin replied. “We all stay together now.” Using fey magic he set the end of his staff on fire. “This way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crom Cruach like the Cailleach demanded sacrifices from his worshipers. Brutal and bloody.


	11. Crom Cruach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin plays a game with a death god and wins the iron but Nimue loses something more precious

Merlin felt the presence of lost souls crowding around them so thick that they were almost corporeal. Small nightmares with yellow eyes peered down at them from fissures in the rocks. Nimue stayed close to Lancelot, who was as wild eyed as she. Merlin kept his impersonal mask up, but he did not fool Morrigan. He was as scared as she was. 

A creature that looked like a man crossed with pure darkness appeared before them, Fir Dulb. “One of the mighty sidhe visits us,” he snarled in contempt, his face less human and more animal. Lancelot moved forward keeping Morrigan and Nimue behind him and Merlin. The bulging eyed creature studied the young fey warrior for a moment and then hissed, “I thought his kind were all dead.”

“Not at all,” Merlin replied and stopped, his smile stretching quite thin across his lips. “I came to see Crom Cruach. He has something I need, and I thought perhaps we could come to some sort of agreement over it.”

“Crom will drink your blood first,” the hellish minion replied.

“Will you tell him we are here?” Merlin asked. “We will wait here until he invites us in.”

Lancelot glanced back at Nimue and offered her his hand. She took it and moved to his side. Morrigan and Merlin looked at each other and then back at the descending tunnel. If shit broke loose, they didn’t want to be holding hands.

Things crawled and slithered by, sometimes right over their feet. Nimue was the only one agitated by this. “Don’t be afraid,” Merlin said in a soothing voice. “You are more powerful than they are.”

She tried to calm down, but even Lancelot’s strong arms could not keep all the fear at bay. The darkness was alive or dead, she couldn’t say, but it crept around them like a living thing, touching her with invisible hands. Lancelot brought her into the folds of his cloak and wrapped it around her. He kept his hood back so he could see everything around him. 

Merlin did not move for the longest time, and finally his patience was rewarded, Fir Dulb returned with word that Crom Cruach would see them. Merlin moved forward first. 

The great hall of Crom Cruach was burning red with great stalactites dripping from the ceiling and even larger stalagmites reaching up like huge twisted fingers, as if a huge hand would appear if the dirt were swept away. And in the center of it, an enormous hump shouldered being sat at a table. 

“Manannan,” he said and turned his bloody head towards them, “I have waited a long time for this.”

Merlin motioned for his companions to stay where they were as he approached the table and recognized a game board sitting on it. “Fidchell?” he asked curiously.

“I haven’t played anyone new in centuries,” the misshapen creature replied. 

Merlin took a seat opposite the being and studied the board. “I would love to play against you,” he said, “but first. I need to know if you still have the piece of Dagda’s cauldron.”

“I do,” Crom replied and moved one of the white pieces and then returned it to its spot.

“Might I negotiate for it?” Merlin asked curiously.

“Why?” The being turned a bloody cat eye towards him. 

“I have need of it. I will pay you a great price for it.”

“No,” Crom replied and turned his malevolent gaze on Nimue. “You want the iron?”

“Yes.”

“Then we play for it,” Crom answered. “You win, you get the iron. I win, I get what she carries.”

Merlin thought that odd. He didn’t know of Nimue carrying anything special unless Lancelot had given her the necklace. “Agreed,” he said. “The best two out of three?”

“Agreed.”

Merlin had not played Fidchell in centuries. Myth had it his own foster son Lugh Lamfada had invented the game, but as the Norse had their own version of it, he didn’t imagine Lugh did anything more than tweak the rules. He had the king first. Move pieces to get him safely to the edge of the board. Simple. He lost that first round. Merlin could not afford to lose anymore.

Crom stopped and stared once more at Nimue. Morrigan was puzzled by this. What was Nimue carrying? She moved closer to the young queen. “If they offer you food or drink, accept but do not eat or drink it,” she told her and Lancelot, still unable to see what Nimue was carrying. Morrigan looked up at Lancelot and saw the cord around his neck. What? Could it be something unseen? A cold chill ran up Morrigan’s back. Nimue was pregnant and that was what Crom Cruach was sensing.

The piece of iron was brought out before the second game and set on the table. Merlin resumed the game without realizing what they were actually playing for. Now that he had refreshed his memory, he won the second game handily playing the attackers. This was going to be an easy victory. 

Morrigan moved to the young warrior’s side and whispered, “Sword in hand now, love.”

Lancelot wrapped his hand around the small sword that hung from his neck and Moralltach appeared. All in the cave knew The Great Fury. Lancelot made no move other than to hold the sword in his right hand and Nimue with his left.

Merlin thought it odd that Morrigan was acting very protective of the younger fey. What was wrong? He was going to win this round. And did. “Thank you,” he said and claimed the piece of iron. Tucking it into his coat pocket, he stood up and walked back to his companions. This was going to be easy…

Crom roared, “You cheat!” 

“Run,” Merlin barked sharply and drew his own sword. Nimue turned to take a step when a terrible pain seized her. Doubling over, she screamed. 

Morrigan reached for her and dragged her along while Lancelot and Merlin, swords in hand, faced what they feared was coming. Crom Cruach, an evil smile upon his twisted face, held his hand up and claimed a bright shining spark of life. Merlin stared in horror as that delicate light was extinguished. His daughter had been pregnant, and they had foolishly brought her into the realm of death.

There was no need to chase them now. Crom had his sacrifice. 

Nimue was devastated. She had known something was different but had not imagined this. Morrigan helped her as best she could until they found a lodge. Broken hearted everything inside of her crashing around her, all she could do was cry. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t even been certain there was a baby, it had been hers! Merlin wanted them to be together, but she didn’t want that. She wanted to be alone with Lancelot, who could do nothing but hold her while she cried against his breast, soaking his blouse with her tears. And she cried until exhaustion over took her and she slept.

Nimue and Arthur will have more children the voice in his head taunted him.

He held her tenderly and kissed the top of her head. He grieved for her, and to a lesser degree for himself. He loved Nimue with all his heart and soul. She was the good that his sorry life had been missing. The voice was right. He deserved nothing for his crimes.

Wrapping himself around her, he lay on his side and tried to sleep.

Nimue awoke in the shelter of his body. He had held her all night. Hurting worse than when she lost her mother, she rubbed her face against his chest. “Lancelot, wake up,” she said. “I need you to wake up.” He stirred and then looked down at her. Nimue’s eyes were swollen from crying. He released her and sat up. A smart man, he did not ask any dumb questions. “We need to go back to the cave.”

Alarmed, he said, “It would be dangerous.”

“Crom hurt me,” she said angrily. “I am going to hurt him back.” Taking his hand in hers, she said, “I need you to take me. I can not do this alone.” Making eye contact, she added, “I will do this with or without you.” She could see in his eyes that she was not going anywhere without him.

Lancelot got up. He had a horse to saddle.

Within the hour, he was riding back to the cave with Nimue seated behind him, holding on to him for dear life, not that she was afraid, but that he was life. They arrived within the hour and Nimue slipped off the back of Goliath. She walked to the mouth of the cave but did not enter. She took Lancelot’s hand and kissed it, then with it warm in her hand, she called upon all the lost souls in the cavern, human and fey to set them free. She could feel Crom Cruach’s roar, but she didn’t care as she released the damned. Warriors slaughtered, small children and women, all set free as Crom sent his hell hounds after her. Lancelot wrapped his hand around Moralltach and brought the great sword forward. The first hellish being to appear before them he sliced in half. Moralltach needed no one to guide it, but in the hands of a warrior, it was invincible. Nimue continued freeing the damned while Lancelot protected her.

A scream that shook the world itself echoed out of the cave as one last soul made its way forward, a tiny spark of life that Nimue recognized instantly. Her stolen daughter. Now she would have a chance to be reborn like all the others she had freed. The tears that Nimue now shed were for relief and happiness. Even Lancelot shed a tear for what was never going to be.

“I need you to seal the cave now,” Nimue told him, the conviction in her voice unshakable.

“Mortals can not see it,” he reminded her.

“But I can see it,” she answered. “I want it sealed forever.”

Lancelot inclined his head and entered the mouth of the cave. Driving Moralltach into the living stone, he twisted the great sword and weakened the its support. Dust fell as the rock groaned beneath his attack. The moment he heard it break, he backed out and drove the sword into the roof at the cave’s mouth. Whatever existed in the cave was now trapped forever. He turned to Nimue and waited for her; her eyes were only on the cave-in. Finally she broke out of her trance and smiled at him.

“I do not know how to comfort you,” he confessed and took her offered hand.

“You are my comfort,” she said and wrapped her arms around him. “We need to go back before Merlin panics and comes looking for us.”

“Too late,” Lancelot said and nodded at the approaching horsemen. Merlin drew rein and knew immediately what she had done. Dismounting he took her into his arms.

“Maybe we need to stop this and go home,” he told her.

“No,” she answered with conviction. Raising her head, she said, “Nothing will stop me now.”

“You still need to rest a few days,” Morrigan advised. The trauma of being savaged like that had to weigh heavy on her. 

“I will do that, but then we need to move on,” Nimue answered firmly. “Who’s next?”

“Ceitlinn,” Merlin answered. “I do not fear her, but we won’t be able to negotiate with her. We’ll have to take it from her.”

Morrigan smiled. “I’m sure I can find where she has hidden it.”

Merlin returned her smile. “I count on it, but right now we need to return to the lodge before the proprietor thinks we’ve abandoned two ponies and a grey horse.”

Merlin and Morrigan rode on ahead leaving Lancelot to ride back at a leisurely pace with Nimue sitting in front of him sidesaddle. She leaned against him to keep warm, and he didn’t mind. He had a hundred questions that would not be asked, foremost being who was the father…if only to silence the voice in his head.

Wrapping a strong arm around her, he kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I love you.” She raised her head smiled. The vow was sealed with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nimue's grief and crying is real. Women who lose children in the womb suffer a hormonal crash that is devastating.
> 
> Please feel free to comment if you like.


	12. The Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crom is not going down without a fight....Nimue is dying but a sacrifice can save her. Only one sidhe can pull this off....Merlin's old friend.
> 
> This is a short chapter to end the Crom Cruach tale.

Nimue’s sleep was troubled, so much so Lancelot could not rest worrying about her.. When morning came she was in pain and feverish. Trying to leave her to find Merlin and Morrigan had her in tears, and Lancelot did not like the way she smelled. Merlin laid his hand on his daughter’s forehead and felt the fever burning in her. Morrigan did not have to be asked; she shifted into raven form and flew away.

“What is causing this?” Lancelot fighting down his own panic asked Merlin.

“Crom Cruach is behind this,” Merlin replied nervously and sat on the bed beside them. “I no longer have the powers to fight him.”

“Then what do we do?” Lancelot retorted. “She’s dying.” He was on the verge of panic, but what could he do?

Morrigan was only gone a few hours, and when she returned she had Oengus, Cair and Nemglan with her. Oengus immediately took the girl from Lancelot, who at first did not want to surrender her. "I can help her," he assured the young fey warrior. Turning to his consort, he said, “She still carries death in her womb.”

Cair, carrying a small bag, turned to Merlin and said, “We need water.”

Merlin bolted out the door and came back with a cup. Cair poured a powder into the water and held it to Nimue’s lips. “Drink, young queen.” Nimue, feeling less pain in Oengus’ arms was able to swallow the foul tasting liquid, a sip at a time. Oengus held his hand out to his son who placed a thin piece of leather in his hands. Merlin’s eyes widen in recognition.

As Oengus shook it out with his free hand, his other holding Nimue, the skin unfolded into something much larger. “The Persian skin,” Merlin muttered in awe of the wild boar hide imbedded with healing properties. Oengus laid Nimue back on the bed and covered her with the skin. He stood up a grim look on his face and turned to Merlin. “He attached himself to her when he did this. We can save her body, but he means to take her children before they are born.”

Lancelot stepped forward. “We sealed the cave.”

Oengus smiled. “You only keep things inside. This does not need the real world to work.”

Morrigan, standing at the door, asked, “How do we remove him from her?” 

“Offer Crom another sacrifice,” Oengus said and turned to Lancelot, “one connected to her. Crom wants blood, yours or hers.”

This was the easiest thing Lancelot ever had to do. “Mine. Just tell me what to do.”

Oengus laid Nimue on the bed and turned to Morrigan, grabbing her by the back of the neck and pressing his forehead to hers. No words were spoken, only the power of his will conveyed what he wanted her to do. Morrigan’s expression changed as she realized his intent. He released her and turned to Lancelot. He grabbed the young fey warrior by the back of the neck and asked, “Do you offer your life willingly for hers?”

“I do.” He would spill his own blood right now if required.

Oengus smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t be afraid.” Turning to Merlin, he barked, “Go with them. Nemglan, you know what to do?”

“Aye, father.”

Things moved in slow motion now for Lancelot. He knew he was going to die to save Nimue, and he was all right with that. What would his life have been without her; she was all he had? The four of them rode to a circle of rocks, ancient in origin, a flat rock in the middle…the place where he would die. 

They left the horses outside of the circle and entered it on foot. Lancelot paused only for a moment to look at the sky. It was going to be a cold clear day. Oengus watched all this through Morrigan’s eyes. Sitting on the bed, he removed the boar skin and laid his hand on Nimue’s abdomen. He found death like a tumor in her womb. Concentrating now, he waited.

Lancelot undressed, his bare skin to the slab. He would not be cold long he told himself. Morrigan stood at his head and caressed his cheek. “Do not be afraid, precious,” she said and drew her dagger to lay upon his breast over his heart. “The pain won’t last long,” she promised him and nicked his skin with the edge of the dagger drawing a thick dark ribbon of blood. She made a second one at his throat. Calling upon an ancient spell, she crabbed his hair and pulled his head back lengthening his throat, making it easier to kill him. Morrigan made sure she could sense Crom Cruach before they did anything else. 

Oengus deep in the spell watched Morrigan bring down the blade and sent the death charm into the sacrifice. “It worked,” he told Cair. She smiled. 

Free of the death charm and wrapped in the healing skin, Nimue awoke to find herself with Oengus and Cair. “Where is everyone?” she asked and lowered the skin. She was naked.

“We had to do a sacrifice to save you,” Oengus explained.

Before he could explain, Nimue’s eyes widened in horror. “A sacrifice? Who did you kill?” Tears filled her eyes. “Lancelot! You killed Lancelot!”

Oengus did not have to say anything else. The young fey warrior rushed into the room to take Nimue into his arms. “I’m all right,” he assured her. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Nemglan, standing beside his father, leaned towards him and said, “We really cut it close.”

“The closer the better,” Oengus replied, smiling at the young lovers. The slayer of thousands was also the protector of lovers.

Morrigan and Merlin stood at the door. “I hope to never have to do another spell like that as long as I live,” he said affectionately. 

“Agreed,” Morrigan said. “I’m tired. I think I will go lay down. Coming?”

“Oh? Yes.” Merlin glanced back at Oengus who only waved his fingers at him. 

Once he was certain all was well, Oengus took the skin from Nimue but had second thoughts. “Young queen,” he told her. “This has the power to heal the fey. I leave it with you for seven years. Regrettably it has no effect on mortals.” He laid it in her hands.

Incredibly touched, Nimue stared at it a moment and then looked up at Oengus. “Thank you,” she said as he, Cair and Nemglan readied to leave. Oengus was the type of king she hoped to be. She would be a queen to match him. 

Nemglan, still the flirt, kissed Nimue on the cheek and said, "Stop by sometime."

"I will," she promised him. When they returned to England, she was certain Morrigan and Nemglan would be the ones she would miss the most.

After they were alone, Lancelot told Nimue about the death spell and how Oengus tricked Crom into thinking that Lancelot was going to die for her. He actually thought he was going to die, but at the last minute as the fire rose, Nemglan switched him with a deer, and it was the deer that was slain. His blood on the knife entered the deer making them one and the same. Crom had no hold over either of them now.

Nimue’s love for Lancelot swelled ten times as they lay facing each other. His wounds were nothing to him, but to her they were proof of his love. She kissed every thin red line on his chest and throat. This was proof no greater proof could exist.

She was not ready to make love, but that did not mean she could not touch him, kiss him, taste his skin. Lancelot tried to stop her, but with her lips on his and her hand firmly grasping his cock he got very quiet. He belonged to her. Nimue’s heart swelled as she played with his beautiful body. And when he spilled into her hand, she kissed his mouth and whispered, “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ancient myths say that sharing blood made the two beings one. 
> 
> Now we move on to the next big baddie.


	13. Ceitlinn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To get the piece of iron in Ceitlinn the Terror's possession, Merlin has to do a little magic.

Merlin insisted that Nimue wait a week before they rode out again. Paying the lodge owner in gold to keep him on their side….should anyone ask….they took off one morning in a southeasterly direction. Their next stop, Ceitlinn the terrifying Fomorian queen and wife of Balor of the Evil Eye who at the second battle of Moytura terrorized the Danann mercilessly. Merlin’s tales had the two younger fey on edge. What were they going to find?

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Merlin asked Morrigan for the tenth time.

“Absolutely. This is where Ceitlinn lives these days,” Morrigan answered, as surprised as Merlin to find the Terror of the Fomorians living in a small cottage like castle at the end of a crushed shell drive. Who came to visit Ceitlinn in a carriage?

Even in the early days of winter this just screamed ‘cozy’. There were even Holly hedges off the steps that led up to the double doors complete with bright red berries. Merlin looked at the hedges and then back at Morrigan as he dismounted at a rather ornate tie post. “This can’t be right,” he said to himself. Ceitlinn was as brutal as they came. What would she be doing here?

He led them to the door and used the great lion head knocker to announce their presence. After a moment the door opened and a short man…a very short man…opened it and looked up at him. “I am Merlin and these are my companions. We seek an audience with Lady Ceitlinn, if this is her home?”

“Aye, it tis,” the small man answered in a heavy Irish accent. “Wait here while I see if her Ladyship is receiving.” He closed the door. Merlin turned to Morrigan and hissed, “This can’t be right.”

“People change,” Morrigan reminded him.

“Not THAT much.”

The small man returned and said, “Her Ladyship said bug off.”

Merlin grabbed the door before he closed it. “Tell her it’s Manannan mac Lir and Morrigan.”

The small man hurried off and came back a few minutes later. “Well, highborn sidhe. Come in. Have a sit in front of the fire an’ doan touch nothin’,” he said.

“Now that sounds like her,” Morrigan said with a grin. She glanced back at Nimue and Lancelot who were just following along because there was nothing else to do. They found a long bench in front of an enormous fireplace and took a seat. Nimue actually looked around for what he was afraid they would touch. Tapestries from Persia hung on the walls and covered the floor. Tables of pale oak and dark ebony held her treasures. 

The click click click of a walking stick alerted them to her arrival. Ceitlinn the Terrible was an old woman in heavy attire with a piece of lace on her snow white head. “You doan look like mac Lir,” the old woman said and stared up at Merlin.

“It’s been awhile,” Merlin answered.

The old woman looked up at Morrigan and said, “But you haven’t changed a bit.” 

Morrigan shrugged. “Good face cream,” she answered.

Ceitlinn the Terrible snorted and turned to Nimue and Lancelot. “Ah doan know them.”

“My daughter Nimue and her consort Lancelot,” Merlin introduced.

“Consort? Are you a queen?” Ceitlinn asked Nimue and squinted her eyes to get a better look.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ceitlinn didn’t seem so terrible right now. “Come. Ah like sittin’ in the sunroom. It’s the only good me daughter done for me in building this monstrosity.”

Seeing a way to break the ice, Merlin went to Ceitlinn’s side and offered her his elbow. After a hard suspicious glance, she accepted it. “How is Ethlinn these days?” he asked curiously.

“Puttin’ on airs since her husband died,” Ceitlinn answered in disgust. “She wants everyone to think we are sidhe royalty. Damn nuisance it is.”

“Tadg is dead?” Merlin responded in genuine surprise. The eldest son of Nuada the first high king of the Tuathe de Danann wasn’t exactly a young man, but to hear of his death was a shock to him.

“Got his head stuck in a tree,” Ceitlinn said as they turned into a smaller room with a fireplace and clear pane windows. “Kicked for days.”

Morrigan suppressed a chuckle as she tried to imagine Tadg with his head stuck in a tree. “How did he get stuck in the tree?” Morrigan asked, suspecting this was not the normal getting one’s head stuck in a tree story.”

“Fell asleep an’ it grew around him,” Ceitlinn answered in disgust. “ Told’em to chop the tree down but they didn’t lissen to me.” 

“That would not be the way I would want to go,” Merlin admitted as she released his arm and sat in a well-worn chair in front of the fire. It was hard to see this once raging queen reduced to a little old lady with an attitude.

“He was an idiot,” Ceitlinn snapped and motioned for them to pull up chairs. “An’ now her highness doan want people knowin’ she isn’t all royal sidhe. Like she’s bettern me an’ her father.” Pointing out the window, she said, “Had all this built so’s people doan think about Tory Island.”

“Children can sometimes be so ungrateful,” Merlin said and pulled up a chair to sit beside her but turned so he could see her.

“She’s a horse’s patoot,” Ceitlinn spat into the fire. “Jess cause her da locked her in a tower an’ that Diencecht boy come along and had his way with her….she never could keep her knees together.” She narrowed one eye and studied Merlin. “You wuz the one who saved that boy.”

“Lugh?”

“He was also a patoot.” 

“He did let me down,” Merlin admitted.

The little man entered the sunroom and asked, “Will we be havin’ company for dinner, my lady?”

“You stayin?” she asked Merlin.

“Only with your blessing.”

“They’ll be stayin’,” Ceitlinn snapped. “So why are you here, mac Lir?”

“You have a piece of the Dagda’s cauldron, and I was hoping we might discuss it.”

“No,” Ceitlinn replied without hesitation. 

Nimue decided she needed to get involved. “M’lady,” she interrupted them. “My people are dying, and that piece could mean the difference between life and death for them.”

Ceitlinn turned her head and looked hard at the young queen. “You not sidhe?”

“I am from England,” Nimue answered. “Merlin is my father, but my mother was British.”

“An’ him. Never seen the likes of him.”

Merlin wanted to say, you did once, but it was a long time ago. Instead he answered, “He is from Scotland. Ash folk.”

“Doesn’t he know how to speak fer himself?” she asked suspiciously.

“I can, m’lady,” Lancelot answered without elaborating. 

Merlin smiled. “Lancelot is a blessing for us. When he speaks it is always important.”

“Stand up, boy,” Ceitlinn told him. Lancelot stood. She looked at the weapons he carried and nodded. “Do yah know how to use all that hardware?”

“I am the best,” he answered readily. A woman like this would not appreciate humility. 

Ceitlinn looked at Nimue and asked, “Is he any good?”

Nimue answered, “His sword has saved me and my people….”

Morrigan coughed and whispered, “Not that sword.”

Nimue’s mouth fell open in surprise. Were the sidhe without shame? All right if the old woman wanted to go to bed at night with something to dream of, she would give it to her. “My apologies, I did not know which weapons you were speaking of.” Offering her hand to Lancelot, who took it, she said, “My consort is without equal. He is…”

Ceitlinn stopped her. “Mac Lir, you can have the iron is you can make me beautiful again.”

Now it was Merlin’s mouth that fell open. Ceitlinn had never been beautiful. What could he say but, “I will certainly do my best.”

“Do it,” she said. “If Morrigan can look no more than forty, you can do the same for me.”

The little man arrived and announced, “Dinner is served, m’lady.”

“Bout time, Ah thought we wuz in a famine,” Ceitlinn answered and held her hand out to Merlin, who helped her up. They followed the little man back the way they had come. 

Morrigan hesitated a moment and hissed at Nimue, “I do not look forty. Twenty seven!” Then grabbing the hem of her tunic she pulled it up and asked Lancelot, “Are these the breasts of a forty year old?” Lancelot liked breasts and could only stare at them in awe. Morrigan pulled her blouse back down and said, “See.” 

“He gets excited seeing two hills together,” Nimue retorted and started after her father. How could Morrigan be so cool and calm under stress and act like a love smitten teenage girl at other times? Lancelot tried to remember if he had ever got excited seeing two hills together? Not that he could remember.

Dinner was rather elaborate at a long table with servants that resembled the short red haired man who first met them. It was all extremely formal. “I hope you didn’t go to all this trouble on our account,” Merlin said as a platter of sliced beef was passed around.

“Ah didn’t, but her ladyship insists Ah eat like a proper queen,” Ceitlinn replied and sipped some soup. “Puttin’ on airs fer her new friends now. All cause her man got his head stuck n ah tree.”

Merlin tore off a piece of bread to dip in meat juice and asked, “How long was he asleep?”

“Ah doan know. Long enough for a tree to grow around him. Was like that fer days afore he finally died.”

The little man who waited on them cleared his throat and said, “M’lady. Remember her ladyship said to use the word succoombed.” 

“Afore he succoombed,” Ceitlinn snapped. “In my day we’d have jest cut his head off.”

“Simpler times,” Merlin agreed.

Ceitlinn, a twisted smiled pulling at her lips, said, “If’n I get me head stuck in a tree, O’Finn has my permission to cut if off.” O’Finn was the little man who waited on her.

“It would be a pleasure, m’lady.”

“I suppose I need to designate someone for that task should I suffer such a fate,” Merlin said as a different servant poured him more wine.

“So,” Ceitlinn continued, “thet piece a iron fer me beauty.”

“Indeed,” Merlin replied, unsure how he was going to accomplish this. “I will need a place where I can work in peace.”

“O’Finn?”

“On it, m’lady.”

Merlin’s first attempt at age regression was with an old grey horse….a very old horse, that stood in front of him dozing. Some magic words and a push of magic…and the very old horse twitched its ear. “You woke it up,” Morrigan cynically remarked.

“It’s a start,” Merlin replied. 

Watching from a safe distance, Nimue wondered how her father was going to make the horse young again much less a three thousand year old Fomorian. Glancing behind her, she smiled. Lancelot, curled on a divan facing the wall, was dozing. 

“Why don’t you place a geis on it,” Morrigan suggested. “Maybe she’ll accept being beautiful half the time? It worked for Oengus.”

Merlin faced Morrigan and said, “ She was a bug. Edain would have let him turn her into a sheep dog to keep from being a bug.” But it was an idea.

Digging into his ancient knowledge, he came up with a spell that just might work. In a twenty-four hour period, the old horse would be a young stallion again. Morrigan stepped back to Nimue’s side and watched as Merlin called upon the four elements and the ancient god of time….thunder and lightning….and the old horse was a young stallion.

“It worked,” Nimue pronounced in awe.

“Now to convince Ceitlinn that being a beautiful woman half the time is worth your piece of iron,” Morrigan said, genuinely impressed that he had been able to pull it off. The old bastard still had some tricks in him.

Ceitlinn hated the idea of being a beautiful woman only half the time, but the alternative was no time at all. After some negotiating, she got beautiful woman from twelve noon to midnight, old hag from 0001 to 1159.

After waiting two days to make sure it actually worked, Ceitlinn handed the iron over with a caveat, she wanted to test her new body out. Nimue was prepared to protest when Ceitlinn chose Merlin and invited Morrigan to join them. “The old stud knows a few tricks the colt hadn’t learned yet,” she said while eyeing Merlin.

“Indeed,” Merlin agreed while thinking the same thing of them. Would he survive their creativity? Would he survive THEM? Morrigan was grinning at him like the fox that got the hen. Ceitlinn never a great beauty even when she considered herself one had a look in her eyes that told him he was going to earn that piece of iron. He handed it over to Nimue before retiring to his fate.

Nimue watched her father leave and then turned to Lancelot. Seeing the thoughtful expression on his face, she said, “Please tell me you aren’t wishing that was you?”

“No, of course not,” he protested without the least hesitation.

“But you wouldn’t mind if I brought another woman into our bed?”

“Only if that was your choice,” he responded quickly. “I would never suggest such a thing.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” she said and considered what they should do next. “What do you want to do?” He smiled. “I’m saving that for later.”

“Go touch tapestries?”

She chuckled at this playful side of him. “Knowing our luck, something might come out and eat you,” she said and then reconsidered it. “Don’t touch the tapestries. Something could come out and eat you.” Taking his hand in hers, she decided the safest place for both of them was not in Merlin’s make shift lab or anywhere in the castle where there might be tapestries. “You know maybe it’s not too early to snuggle.” Lancelot smiled.

After a night of unmatched debauchery, Merlin awakened between the two women. Gazing down affectionately at Morrigan, he smiled tenderly and turned to Ceitlinn. That was when he remembered this was the down side of the spell. “Morrigan! Morrigan! Wake up, we have to go.” He climbed over her to get out of bed and into his clothes. She sat up, moving much too slowly for him. “I will go find the children,” he told her. “You can join us there.” He practically ran out of the room.

Nimue was dozing in front of the great hearth on a long divan while Lancelot promised not to touch the tapestries. He turned when Merlin practically sprinted into the room, startling his daughter awake. “What’s wrong?” she asked and sat up.

“Nothing. Why would anything be wrong?” he asked with a forced smile. “Are the horses ready?”

“I can go get them ready,” Lancelot offered.

“I will go with you,” Merlin said and turned to Nimue. “Wait here for Morrigan than join us in the stables.” 

Nimue was sitting in front of the fire when Morrigan showed up. “What happened?’ she asked the raven witch.

“Let’s just say the geis wasn’t working this morning,” Morrigan laughed. “Where is he?”

“With Lancelot getting the horses ready.”

“Coward.”

The morning was crisp and cold but the sky was clear as they rode down the paved road of Ceitlinn’s small castle. Merlin was taking them back to the Brug to begin assembling the cauldron. Nimue was also looking forward to a few days of relaxing in a safe place. They didn’t have all the pieces, but he was afraid that if he didn’t keep them in a safe place he might lose something along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ceitlinn was the wife of Balor of the Evil Eye. She was quite the terror....three thousand years ago.


	14. Return to the Brug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin thinks the cauldron pieces will be safer at the Brug, while Nimue and Lancelot discover what it means to be in the heart of a sith.

A day away from the Brug, a carriage drawn by four white horses intersected them on the road. Merlin glanced back at Morrigan who shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t you know anybody?” he asked her as the driver, a small man like the one they had left at Ceitlinn’s stepped down and approached them.

“Her ladyship wishes a word with Manannan mac Lir, if you be him.”

“I am he,” Merlin answered and stepped off his horse. Approaching the carriage, suspecting he knew who was behind the fine curtain, he asked, “How may I help you?”

The curtain drew back and a woman who had once been a great beauty peered out at him. “What have you done to my mother?”

Merlin, surprised by the hostility in the voice, replied, “I gave her what she asked me for.”

“Do you do that for everyone?”

“We made an exchange. This was my part of the bargain,” he explained.

“Well, you have ruined my life,” Ethlinn moaned rather loudly. “How will I ever show my face at Teamhair with a mother who goes from a gentle old woman to a raving lunatic?”

“I am sorry for your discomfort but there is nothing I can do to change it.”

“I want you to know I hate you.”

“For that I will always grieve,” Merlin said and pressed his hand to his heart.

“Liar,” she snapped and tapped the window edge with her ivory folding fan. “Take us home O’Donall.” The carriage lurched forward and in the rising dust vanished.

“Well that was interesting,” Merlin said as he mounted his horse. “Ethlinn does not appreciate her mother’s new ability.”

The sun was setting behind them when they arrived at the Brug. Everything on the river was bedded down and all was silent. Morrigan opened the doorway and led them into the world of faerie. Riagain was the first man to greet them.

“Can’t stay away fey?” he growled at Lancelot.

“Need to prove it’s not a fluke,” Lancelot answered as someone came and took his horse.

“Careful with the ponies,” Merlin told the stewards.

“We’ll put the panniers in your room,” one of the men replied as he led the ponies off to unsaddle and bed down.

Riagain turned to Merlin and said, “Oengus won’t be here til tomorrow; off vistin’ his brother. He said to make you comfortable and see that you get fed. I’ll have some meat an’ bread taken to your rooms.” 

“That would be lovely,” Merlin said.

Nimue relieved to be off the horse stretched. “Do you think I could get a hot bath?” she asked Riagain.

“I’ll send a lady to assist you,” the dark haired man replied. “You’ll be stayin’ with your consort?”

Nimue hesitated a moment. “Yes, of course.” 

Riagain inclined his head. “Just tell’er what you need.”

Their room was waiting for them, the covers on the bed already pulled back and a canter of wine on the table by a small fire in the hearth. “I want this when I get home,” she said and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the wonderful little blaze. “I want this for our people.” 

He poured them two glasses of wine and handed one to her. “It would be nice,” he agreed Someone knocked on the door, and he answered it. 

A woman as pale as she was tall entered the room with a rosy smile on her face. “I was told the young queen desired a bath,” she said warmly and set some linens on the table. A man carrying a platter of food entered the room behind her and set it on the table beside the linens. Lancelot took an immediate interest in it. 

“A bath would be lovely,” Nimue said feeling almost too lazy to get back up.

The fey woman smiled sweetly and asked, “Would you be preferring a proper bath or would you be more interested in a pool?”

“A pool?” Nimue asked with interest.

“You are in the heart of a sith, my lady. Whatever you want, it will answer you.” The woman waved her hand to the right and a pool surrounded by crystalline flowers appeared. Steam even rose off it. “Or maybe you would prefer something smaller, ” and a concrete bath appeared in place of the pool with steam also rolling off it.

“That,” Nimue said. “That’s what I want.”

“AS you wish.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“What is your name?” Nimue asked and stood up.

“Befind. This is Cass, If you need anything do not hesitate.”

“No, this is lovely. Thank-you.”

They both inclined their heads and faded away. “I want to learn how to do that,” Lancelot said as he chewed on a tender piece of boiled beef covered with mustard. Giving it a thought, he closed the door while Nimue stripped off her clothes and dropped them on the floor. Stepping into the bath, she sighed and settled into the water. This was nice. 

Lancelot pulled a chair up to the bath and sat down, his plate of food safely in hand. “How are you feeling?” he asked curiously. She had been generous to him, but he was beginning to feel guilty.

“So much better,” she replied and sank deeper in the hot water. “I want one of these when we get home.”

Lancelot smiled. He had not consciously thought of England in a long while. “When we get home,” he said softly, wanting that day to be as far away from now as possible. “If it was larger I would get in with you.” And then the bath was larger. 

Nimue laughed at his surprised expression, but it turned smokier when he set the platter aside and started undressing, He stepped into the hot water and sat down facing her. It was very nice. He picked up one of her feet and started rubbing it between his large hands, using his thumb on every nerve in her sole. She gasped and moaned, closing her eyes in ecstasy. How could the nerves in her foot run all the way up her thigh? Lancelot was thoroughly mesmerized by her actions. When he did it to her other foot, he was certain he had discovered something unique to Nimue. When she told him ‘enough’, he released her foot. Grinning devilishly he scooted back and rested his back against the bath. In Nimue’s eyes he was pure temptation.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” she asked curiously, making sure an ample amount of bosom was visible above the water. His eyes automatically went to them.

“Is it working?” he asked hopefully. He was certainly feeling the effects of their intimacy.

Now she moved towards him, letting him stretch out his long legs. Buoyant in the water she half knelt, half floated over him as she made her move on his mouth. Some kisses are sweet, some are chaste, but this was neither. Nimue wanted to feed at his mouth, to drink him in, become one with him. He placed those large hands on her waist and held her carefully against him. They had yet to make love since her accident. 

Nimue rested her hands on his shoulders and moved her lips from his mouth to his ear and down to his throat. She could feel the heat rising in him. Lowering herself, she mounted him. It was so good to feel him inside of her filling her completely. 

“We’re going to make a mess,” she giggled against his parted lips. His hands went under her hips, and with all the strength and grace of pure warrior, he stood up holding her. The water poured off them. Still holding her in his hands he stepped out of the bath and stood on a mat that hadn’t been there a second earlier. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled down into his face while freeing his hair. Nimue loved the way his dark hair fell loose around his face and neck. He carried her to the bed without breaking their connection and laid her on it. Nimue pouted when he slipped out, but the way he looked down at her, pure lust in his eyes, she didn’t imagine she would be missing him long. Raising her knees, wrapping her arms around his neck she drew him down and into her. The way he slipped inside so smoothly, so deliciously. They didn’t do it this way often, but sometimes it just felt right to be slammed into, to receive all the delicious fury he could raise.

And he didn’t leave her hanging. He made sure she fractured under his tender care. That he caught her moans and screams in his kisses. And then with his eyes on her face, he licked her juices off his fingers. 

With that out of the way, they returned to the bath and playfully fed each other while sharing a goblet of wine. They talked about the room and the magic that created it, about Ceitlinn and her daughter, and they talked about love. The first deep conversation about what would happen when they returned to England.

“I’m a queen, I will keep you both,” she said and picked a strawberry off the platter. How did Oengus grow them so sweet?

“What if they won’t accept me?” he asked and hoped he kept the fear out of his voice. He popped a raspberry into his mouth. He had never had one before and liked the taste of it. “Arthur and the others have a right to hate me.”

“And you were willing to die for me. That is what matters to me,” she answered with conviction. Setting the platter of fruit on a stool beside the bath, she sat up and held her hand out to him. He took it. “The first time I saw you, I was terrified. You rode up so casually while my village burned, and all I could think of was, you were the one I needed to fear.”

“You would have been right,” he said and remembered that day with shame in his heart. “I am sorry.” 

She squeezed his hand and brought his eyes back to her face. “I love you for now,” she assured him. 

“Will you still love me when we return to England?”

“Yes.”

His smile meant the world to her. Her Lancelot. 

Merlin, almost sumptuous in his new robes, hurried down the hall towards the kitchens. Oengus was back and having breakfast. For anyone else seeing this ancient god of youth sitting at a table eating oatmeal and drinking fresh buttermilk, one might have thought it was just easier to get fed here, but there was more. Oengus ate his first meal of the day around his women, listening to their gossip and chatter. You could tell a lot about the state of things by how your women acted. If they talked of families and children, then all was good; if they spoke of things that could happen, he needed to pay better attention to his affairs.

“Oengus,” Merlin said and sat across from him, “how was your visit?”

“A chore, but it needed doin’,” Oengus replied as oatmeal and buttermilk were set before Merlin. “I heard you have found pieces of the cauldron.”

“Aye, yes, and I was hoping to put these pieces together before we look for the other parts.”

“Not a problem,” Oengus replied as some bread and jam were set on the table. “And the young ones?”

“It’s been hard on them, and I thought they could rest a little before we go on.’

“Aye. Any signs of Crom Cruach being around?”

“Nothing mentioned. Saw Ceitlinn. Surprised me.”

Oengus laughed. “She’s at the mercy of her daughter now. After all the pain she gave me…”

“I had to cut a deal with her,” Merlin said carefully. “A geis.”

Oengus stopped eating and tried to imagine what Merlin could have done that Ceitlinn would want. “You didn’t?”

“I did. From noon til midnight she a rather lovely woman.”

“I’ll warn my brothers.”

“Ethlinn wasn’t too happy.”

“She stops by every so often to visit. I leave her with my women.”

Nimue awoke and found herself alone in bed but not alone. Lancelot had created a lake and was swimming beneath a canopy of oaks. Something was in the water with him, and they were playing. Climbing out of bed, she walked to the water’s edge and tested it with her toe. Cool but not freezing. Diving in, she swam out to him. The creature raised its head out of the water and stared at her with bright brown eyes.

“What is this?” she asked Lancelot.

“It’s a dobharcu,” he answered as the creature, longer than he was tall, rolled over in the water. It looked like an otter to Nimue, albeit a very large otter.

“You willed yourself a dobharcu?”

“Yes,” he said and lowered himself into the water until his eyes were the only things clearly visible. He blew water at her. Nimue smiled. How could Lancelot even think she would forget him when they returned to England?

Merlin set the pannier on the long table and carefully removed each piece of iron and set it on the table. Oengus did not touch, but he did look closely at them. Merlin used his magic to assemble them correctly, which left something with a cauldron shape full of huge holes. “I would say you need five more pieces to fix it,” Oengus said.

“At least,” Merlin agreed. “I think we’ll see Goll next.”

“He’ll be wanting an eye,” Oengus said thoughtfully. “Diencecht was the one who put eyes back, an’ I only vaguely remember how he did it. Providing of course that he even has the eye.”

“True. Can I leave this here?”

“Certainly. None of my people will touch it.” To be certain, Oengus put a spell on it. Anyone touching it would find him or herself in a pit of slop. “Never touch it again,” he laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dobharcu in fact is another name for the otter.


	15. If All Fey are Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nimue proves herself a real fey queen

Two days, that was all they got at the Brug before they had to ride out again. Nimue knew she was going to miss it, that the temptation to stay was growing stronger everyday. How easy would it be to become one of Oengus’ permanent guests? She and Lancelot didn’t really need to return to England, did they?

Lancelot sensed the temptation in her because it was inside of him as well, but his reasons were more personal. He still feared losing her because the voice inside of him kept saying it would happen. That when they returned she would cast him aside. He would rather be dead than alone again.

But Nimue sensed the needs of her people growing more dire as winter earnestly raised its hoary head. She decided on their last night at the Brug to raise magic on a bed of newborn grass with a spring breeze around them. There was actually laughter this time and play. So much play that Nimue couldn’t help but wonder if it worked.

Nemglan had known what they were going to do it, assured them that the spell had worked, that the fey had enough meat now to last through the Solstice, although he did chastise Lancelot about the goose. Lancelot apologized but swore up and down that he did not intentionally imagine a goose. It just popped into his head at the last minute.

With time riding them hard, they saddled up and rode out very early the next morning. It was cold, and Goll’s rath was on the coast south of the Dublin. Merlin hoped to reach it, get what he needed and get back to Dublin for the night. This was beginning to look impossible, but there was no turning back. They could not abandon even one piece of iron.

Night was on them when they reached the rath that was hidden from human eyes. Everything was dark as ink and the horses did not like whatever was in there. 

Merlin stepped off his horse with Lancelot and created a torch, but what met their eyes had Lancelot reaching for his sword. A creature, human in form but with blue black skin and yellow eyes, took a step backwards. Merlin motioned for the fey warrior to lower his weapon. 

Laying his hand upon his chest, Merlin said, “I am Merlin. Is Goll here?”

“Our master died last month,” the creature replied sorrowfully.

Merlin glanced back at Morrigan, who shrugged. She had never made it her job to keep up with the Fomorians. “May I ask if you are now in charge?” Merlin asked curiously.

“No charge,” the creature replied. “The powerful ones left, it is just us now,” the creature said and motioned at things hidden in the shadows. Merlin stared into the darkness and saw creatures that existed only in human nightmares.

“Do you know if there is a broken piece of iron laying around anywhere? An old one that Goll kept in a special place?”

A creature the size of a large collie with leathery wings hobbled up and chattered with the other being. “Sceimble says there is something in Goll’s workshop that may be something like that.”

“Can you show me?” Merlin asked hopefully.

Nimue and Morrigan got off their horses and followed the men through the rath to a workshop that hadn’t been used in ages. Peering inside, Merlin opened his senses to anything magical that might be present, and he felt it. The iron was close.

Nimue did not enter the shop. She was watching the creatures creeping towards them. They were fey, she could tell, but they were the lowest born, creatures that existed before the beautiful ones arrived. “Why didn’t you leave with the others?” she asked the blue skinned creature.

“No want us,” it replied sorrowfully. “When spring come, we stop being,” it said with a heavy heartfelt sigh. “Only Lord or lady can save us.”

“What is your name?” Nimue asked.

“Madra olc,” it replied. “And my lady?”

“Nimue,” she answered, a tender compassion filling her heart for the misshapen creature.

“I found it!” Merlin announced and hurried out of the shop with Lancelot following. “If we hurry we can make Dublin before midnight.”

They hurried back to their horses and mounted up. It was going to be a cold ride, but Dublin would give them a place to sleep that would be warm. No cold camp tonight. 

Nimue mounted up and waited for Merlin to pack the pony mare. She paid the strange creatures now sitting in the open staring at them no mind, although the gelding was not happy with them. One Merlin was mounted they rode out of the crumbling gate and into the chill of the night. Nimue looked back and stopped. The beings were all gathered at the gate watching them ride away. And she just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t ride away knowing that they were going to die when life returned because there was no one to intercede for them.

Reining her horse around, she rode back to the rath. Lancelot galloped to her side, and he understood her better than to ask a silly question. He knew what she was going to do. Merlin and Morrigan caught up to them.

Nimue stepped down, and all ten of those strange, some of them very nonhuman, creatures gazed at her with so much hope and pleading in their eyes, that she just couldn’t say no.

“If you accept me as your queen, I will do everything I can to see that the spring rites are yours as well.”

A sound much like a sob left someone’s mouth. Madra olc grabbed her hand and kissed it. Dropping to both knees he wept as he sword his allegiance to his ‘queen’. A creature that was almost formless wrapped itself around her leg and Nimue could sense its promise. All of the others made similar oaths, and all could not help but touch her. Nothing was too monstrous for her to not accept.

Morrigan, bundled against the cold, smiled at Merlin’s daughter. “She is a true queen,” she told the shivering druid. And that was when she noticed a light, a fire glowing through a window. Nudging her horse towards it, she found the glow coming from a hearth. “Merlin,” she called back to him. “Come look!”

The rath was awakening with its new queen. The change was slow, but fire was the first to appear. The creatures who now had a new queen were excited and chattering loudly. Nimue was bringing life back to the rath. 

“We stay the night,” she told Lancelot. “If we have to sleep on straw beds, we will.”

“Oh no, my queen,” Madra olc replied, “the rath will give you whatever you desire.” Taking her hand in his, he said, “Please, please, let me take you to the queen’s chambers.”

She looked back at Lancelot who shrugged and followed. Merlin and Morrigan were commandeering the small building with the fireplace. Closing the shutters would make it warmer.

Lancelot did not actively court Nimue’s new subjects, but that did not keep them from gleefully touching him. Looks like they accepted him as well. The room was cold and dark but the moment they entered it, fire filled the hearth, a great glowing red fire that lit up the room. He had never heard such joyful squealing. Madra olc kissed Nimue’s hands and then backed out of the room, bidding them a good night.

The bed was in a box, a style Lancelot did not like, but the moment he touched it, time fell away from it. He looked back at Nimue with surprise on his face. “It accepts you as my consort,” she said and warmed her hands by the fire. He smiled and paused briefly on his way out the door to kiss her on the head. “Where are you going?”

“To make sure the horses are at least out of the wind,” he said. “When I return, you can warm my hands up.”

“The fire should be good and hot by then,” she teased.

Lancelot along with a pair of creatures that he could not identify placed the horses and ponies in an old stable that showed some signs of regeneration. Their excitement when the smell of fresh hay appeared made him smile. When it appeared in the stalls, the horses were pleased and dug in for huge mouthfuls.

He returned to the queen’s chamber to find Nimue with only a piece of gauze around her waiting for him in the bed box. “Thought you might appreciate these hills,” she teased.

“Very much,” he replied and stripped off the heavy robes. Sitting in front of the fire, he removed his boots and trousers. Once he was nude and standing in front of her, Nimue’s bed got even warmer. But not as warm as when he climbed into it with her. “Now to warm my hands,” he said and gently grabbed them.

She shivered. “They are cold,” she said, her nipples hardening beneath his palms. 

“Told you,” he said and removed one hand, replacing it with his mouth. Nimue moaned softly and ran her fingers through his hair, so soft and cold. When he carefully sank his teeth into the nipple, she thought she would leap out of her skin. He did the same to the other, but this time she dropped her hands to his shoulders and let her nails leave a soft red streak over his fair skin. Sometimes she wanted to rake his back deep, draw a little blood, but always her fingers brushed scars to rival her own.

When he eased his way up her body, the look on his face was so self satisfied and male that it took her breath. His kiss burned her mouth, and his tongue curled into her mouth and took possession of her. This time the bitch answered the dog. Her tongue followed his into his mouth, and she possessed him. A deep laugh rumbled in his chest. 

He rolled over and she pounced on top of him. Happiness filled her. Today she had acted a real queen, and it filled her with such happiness she thought she couldn’t contain it. She kissed him and reveled in his life fire. She could not imagine not having this beautiful creature in her bed and at her side.

When he wrapped his arms around her, she felt safe and loved. Mounting him, shuddering as he filled her completely and fully, she thanked the goddess for sending him to her. Please, let this last forever!

Using his body to achieve her own pleasure first, she felt his hands hold her tight to his body when she could hold the pleasure back no longer. Those large warm hands slipped down her back and grabbed her buttocks, turning her over without losing her. Rising high on his arms, he closed his eyes and slipped his spine. Nimue ran her hands over his hot chest and pinched his nipples. This was hers, all of him. When he climaxed and threw his head back, she marveled at his beauty. He was life.

And the fire burned brighter in the hearth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goll was an actual Fomorian god.
> 
> Recently through on line reading, I learned Lancelot is the personification of the Ash Tree, one of the sacred trees of Celtic mythology. If you want to see where some of their ideas come from...read up on the Celtic ash tree. My next chapter will have the great Ash Tree of Uisnech.


	16. The Great Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancelot climbs the Great World Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ash tree is sacred to Bridget.

There was one place on the list that Merlin worried about, the Hill of Uisnech, the heart of pagan Ireland. Where five centuries ago a great tree had stood, spreading its branches wide, reminding all who looked at it that the Ash was a sacred tree to the ancients. And so they cut it down. All over the islands the Ash trees fell to Christian axes, until only a few survived in remote places in Scotland and Ireland. Lancelot’s people belonged to the tree, and when the tree fell, so fell his people. Only a divine/shadow lord father permitted him to live beyond the world of his people. But Merlin kept these thoughts to himself.

When they readied to leave in the morning, the transformation of the rath was still on going. Even the lost Fomorians were looking better. Still ugly and scary to mortal eyes, but not so much to fey. Lancelot had made two friends who helped him with the horses and ponies. Very short hairy creatures more nose than anything else. Merlin had no clue as to what they were, and when they made noise it sounded like whistles and chirps, but there were two of them and they seemed to understand Lancelot when he spoke.

Nimue couldn’t move without someone or something touching her clothes or hand or even ankle in the case of the shapeless black mass. She was kind to all, assuring them that she would be back…that she was not forgetting them….that they would always be in her thoughts. Lancelot and ‘his boys’ just watched with impassive expressions on their faces.

Morrigan could not help but laugh when he mounted and they looked up at him expectantly. “Next time,” he said and led the ponies out of the rath.

Nimue was the last to ride out, and for a moment she stopped and looked back. The gates of the rath slowly closed behind her and the stone fortress faded from sight. “Will they be all right?” she asked Morrigan.

“They’ll be fine,” the raven witch answered. “Your magic protects them.”

The ride to Ballymore was long and hard, but they reached the village in time to find a room at a hostel for the night. Everyone was tired, but Merlin would not have them make a cold camp. With memories of another time flooding his thoughts, he got them two rooms and then order ale and whatever food the kitchen still had. They were more tired than hungry, but the next day was going to be a hard one, and Merlin did not want anything to go wrong.

Watching his daughter and her lover interact the way young lovers do encouraged him. Their connection was so strong that they didn’t even have to speak to one another to know what the other was thinking. Merlin prayed it was strong enough to withstand what he was going to ask of Lancelot.

Morrigan believed she knew what was bothering him but said nothing. Tomorrow they would be going to the Hill of Uisnech and enter a world of pure magic. But tonight it was ale, some story telling and a little music.

The young ones went to their room after a simple meal, while Merlin and Morrigan stayed behind a little longer and listened to the storyteller recite the fall of Lugh Lamfada. Merlin knew the story well as did Morrigan. Lugh had been Merlin’s first attempt to change the course of history by influencing a king towards greatness, but there had been only petty jealously in Lugh’s heart and a desire for revenge. He murdered a man named Ogma for refusing to marry his mother Ethlinn, yes that Ethlinn, the one now wanting her mother to present herself as some dowager Sidhe queen. 

Nimue was exhausted and chilly, a combination that left her miserable. But going skin to skin with Lancelot warmed her up enough to fall asleep. He was soon behind her, his breath ruffling the fine hairs on the top of her head. Some time during the night she rolled over and snuggled her cold butt against him. It only disturbed him for a moment, but he repositioned himself with his cock nestled in her crack and went back to sleep.

Nimue did not want to get out of bed in the morning. It was so cold she could see her breath, and what would it hurt to spend the entire day naked and in bed just snuggling and dealing with whatever came up. But that thought was quickly shattered by a loud knock on the door.

“Wake up!” Merlin sang to them. “It’s going to be a clear day and we need to go.”

“Coming, father,” Lancelot sang back to him, and he could hear Merlin’s chuckle. Since he tolerated the cold better than Nimue , he jumped bare-footed out of bed and grabbed their things off the floor and chair. Nimue dressed under the covers while he hurriedly donned his clothes. 

By the time they were ready to leave, Morrigan and Merlin had the horses and ponies saddled. Merlin was right, it was going to be a clear day, but that did not necessarily mean warm. They rode to the northwest, not far to the Hill of Uisnech, a place once considered the heart of Ireland and the holiest place on the island. There was a shallow lake nearby that did not seem all that special…to anyone but Merlin. 

A stand of rocks called the Cat Stone looked like a cat if viewed from the right angle, but its importance lay in another time where it marked the meeting place of ancient Eire’s five provinces. Beneath the Cat Stone was the burial place of Eiru, one of the three great sovereignty goddesses of Ireland. He remembered her fondly and placed a soft kiss on the rock.

Not far from the stone was the resting place of Lugh Lamfada, Merlin’s first failure as an advisor to a king. He allowed a moment of grief for his lost friend. But that was the past, he had to save the present.

“Come, come,” he called to Lancelot and Nimue. “What I am about to show you no mortal eyes have seen. Close yours.”

Lancelot and Nimue did as they were told and listened to Merlin call up the magic words of the ancients. Nimue reached for Lancelot’s hand as something happened around them.

“Open them,” Merlin said. The land around them had changed and in front of them stood an enormous Ash tree holding the universe in its branches along with the past, present and future. “The Norse call it Yggdrasil, we simply call it the Sacred Ash Tree, the binder of worlds, sacred to Lugh, Bridget and …..well….never mind.” Morrigan just looked at him without making comment. “What we are looking for is up there somewhere.”

Nimue almost gasped. “How will we find it?” she asked.

“Not us,” Merlin said and nodded at Lancelot. “Our friend here is an ash lord. He would be able to find it.”

“Tell me what to do,” Lancelot responded. 

Merlin explained everything he knew to the young warrior, who listened intently to the instructions. Merlin made him repeat it back to him, and added, “Remember to not let your mind wander. The tree’s pull will be strong.” Lancelot nodded and laid his hand on the tree trunk, the sensation warm and soothing. His clothes would not go through it though.  
“Guess I go naked,” he said and gave Morrigan an embarrassed glance.

“After all the times you’ve seen me naked,” she chastised him and turned around. She counted to ten and turned back. “Fair is fair,” she replied. 

“Have you no shame?” Nimue hissed.

“Do I look like it?” Morrigan answered with a shrug. “Like your sword.” Lancelot blushed and turned towards the tree. 

Laying his hand on the bark, he vanished into it. Darkness folded around him, but all of this other senses were heightened. He could feel things that were new to him and things he remembered well. There were familiar smells reminding him of places he had visited, and there was the powerful pull of magic. He moved towards it and stepped out on an enormous limb that was as wide as several Roman roads running beside each other. He walked down it towards a branch that pointed upwards. Memories like small animals flitted among the green leaves that colored his skin. Stepping on the limb, he reached upwards for the piece of iron. An ancient song swam by him and melted into the leaves. He watched as someone’s prayer approached him and whispered all of its hopes and aspirations into his ear. With the iron in hand, he let his eyes turn upwards. The top of the world. Something tugged at him, urging him to climb higher.

Lancelot could not leave the tree knowing that he might never see it again. Stepping into the bark he stepped out at the highest sturdy branch. Over his heave he saw the universe unfolding before him. Planets rushed on wards in their orbits while stars were born and died right before his eyes.

A sound drew his eyes to the left, and he watched as the past played out before him. A huge deer, unlike any that he had ever seen, stood before him and shook its great antlers. The deer turned and vanished, and in its place animals that defied his imagination, great herds of beasts moved over a planet that no longer existed. 

Lifting his eyes, he saw the present. This was now and he saw the lives of people playing out before him. Love, war, child birth, simple activities and wondrous ones. Nimue’s people appeared before him and he could see they were wrapped warm and there were great fires in the camp, and meat was still plentiful. A smile creased his handsome face. Nimue would be happy to know this.

He turned his head to the right, and a voice whispered, “don’t,” but he did. The future stared at him like a golden eyed snake. His eyes widened in pain at what he saw. Nimue was turning him out, laughing at him; they were calling him a murderer. He was going to be alone again. Alone and hated. 

“No,” he gasped, unable to take his eyes off the terrible things playing out before him. “I love you,” he wept and fell to his knees. “I can’t…” Hot tears…or blood…streaked down his cheeks. “Please…no.”

The image of the future began to fade as a shimmering woman, surrounded by holy fire, blocked his view of it. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and there was kindness in her crystal green eyes.

“Forest child,” she spoke with so much tenderness in her voice, “that was your fear for the future, not the future. The future is unknown beyond a few moments.” She offered him her hand.

“That wasn’t real?” he asked desperately and stood up.

“Only if you make it real,” she said, and he noticed the halo of fire around her body. Even her clothes were lit by the flames but did not burn. 

“Are you a saint?” he asked.

“Not hardly,” she replied with a smile, “although some say I am. You know my brother well.” He looked away unable to hold back a fresh spill of hot tears. She smoothed her hand over his cheek. “I need to remove what you saw.”

“All of it?”

“Just your fears,” she said. “The future’s path hasn’t been trod yet.” She stroked his cheek again and caught his gaze with hers. Everything he had seen, everything that had frightened him faded away. He smiled.

“Thank you.”

“Someone is calling you,” she said.

Lancelot turned. Nimue was calling him, he could hear her as clear as his own voice in the great tree. Turning back to the beautiful woman, he was actually not surprised that she was gone. Still he would have liked to have said, ‘good-bye’ to her.

With the iron firmly in his hand, he stepped into the tree.

Nimue was on the verge of panic when he stepped out of the tree. “You’re back!” she said and wrapped her arms around his neck. Only when his lips were on hers did all the pent of fear inside her heart slip away. “I was so worried.”

“How long have I been gone?” he asked curiously and handed the large piece of iron to Merlin.

“Several days,” Morrigan answered. “We were afraid you had lost your way.” Time acted funny in the world between worlds.

“I saw incredible things,” he replied as Nimue handed him his clothes. “Stars and planets. I saw animals from long ago,” Lancelot explained and smiled at the memories. “I saw your people,” he told Nimue.

“How are they?”

“Well,” he answered. “And I met a woman.”

“A woman?” Merlin asked curiously.

“Yes, she was beautiful. Said I knew her brother. There was a fire around her.”

“Bridget,” Merlin answered in awe. “You met Bridget.”

“She called me Forest Child.”

“Your connection to the ash tree,” Merlin explained. He smiled and slipped the iron into his pouch. The horses and ponies had been unable to pass between worlds. 

They would return to the Brug and rode half way before finding a hostel for the night. It wasn’t fancy but the food was hot, the ale was palatable and the bed was large enough for the four of them. Lancelot opted to sleep on the floor after Nimue dozed off. He didn’t mind, and it gave him more room to stretch out. 

They arrived at the Brug after dark the next day.


	17. The Day Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day at the Brug before riding out to face Lot.

Nimue wrapped her arms around his neck and bobbed up to mount him. The air around them was warm and the water was cool, their surroundings mirroring a beautiful summer day. After fearing him lost, all she wanted to do was drown in his passion. Lancelot had not meant to frighten her; he hadn’t even realized that he had been away that long. She touched him as if imprinting his body on her mind, to always have him with her. Her lips were almost desperate to find his. So soft and sensuous, open mouthed, tasting each other.

She grabbed fistfuls of his hair and leaned his head back stretching his throat until she could see the faint scar from Morrigan’s dagger. A feral passion seized her. He belonged to her, to her alone and she did not share. Gazing into his burning eyes, she saw how much he loved her, how upset he was that he had scared her. Bending down she moved her hands to his face and kissed him again open mouthed and hungry. His strong hands held her hips firmly against him and he thrust upwards into her. It was awkward and funny at the same time; even the dobharcu swam by. Nimue couldn’t help but laugh. 

“The grass,” she said. “On the grass.”

“Hang on,” he replied. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he kicked hard and glided towards the bank. He rolled over, his feet still in the water as she mounted him. He got a fist full of her breasts and played with them while she used his body any way she wanted. They were playing but there was also a seriousness to it. She didn’t want to lose him, and her fear made her desperate to touch his face, his body, to kiss him until neither one could breathe. 

He moved his hands to her buttocks and helped her ride him. Her breasts were a feast for his eyes, the way they swayed so full and ripe, while the liquid heat folding around him sent sparks of electric pleasure up his spine and into his brain. When she came apart on top of him, for one brief moment he marveled at her beauty, at how she looked on top of him, a goddess in his heart. He followed her with a growl that was almost primordial, his lips curling like a snarling wolf. And that little bite of pain! 

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him.

Merlin and Morrigan entered the garden and looked around. Oengus liked to come here every morning and sit in the warm subterranean sun of his creation. Most sith and rath lords could create light within their worlds, but Oengus was powerful enough to create a sun. Even though he resembled an adolescent boy, no one alive now was his equal in magic. And he shared it with all his people. This did not mean that he could not be petty in his youth. When Elcmar killed Midhir for raping his daughter, Oengus killed Elcmar. It wasn’t that he wanted his half sister raped, it was that once Midhir was dead there was no way to make peace between them. So his mother lost her husband, and his half sister lost her father.

Oengus still grieved over the deaths of his brothers. Mighty Ogma, Nuada’s champion, the twice dead. The first time Airmid brought him back to life in a magic well, and Oengus returned his voice to him through a magic breath. The second time Lugh killed him over an affair that never happened. Years later Lugh faced Ogma’s sons and paid for that lie with his life.

Aed was next, killed by a jealous husband right in front of the Dagda. The Dagda did not blame the man for defending his honor, but the Dagda said that he would carry Aed’s body until a suitable rock was found to bury him beneath and a cairn built over him. The man’s honor was protected, but he died fulfilling the task.

The Dagda died at the Brugh forty years after being wounded by Ceitlinn. With him and Nuada gone, the great kings of the Sidhe were gone. Bodb Dearg was next, a true son of the Dagda and a powerful fire lord. A Roman lance in the back still the mighty Red Crow forever. And finally Midhir, a brutal rapist who was still loved by his younger brother who remembered him before a sidhe woman tore them apart. That woman, born again, slept in Oengus’ bed at night along with Cair. They were his heart and soul, and he loved them above all others.

Oengus only took another man’s wife to bed once, and it was an act of revenge. A mortal king had killed one of Oengus’ descendents, and Oengus decided to hurt the man where it would bother him the most in his bed. One night with mac Nessa’s wives and they were never satisfied again.

Finding him sitting beneath an apple tree, they waited for him to finish his meditation and to acknowledge them. A deep breath and he looked around. “I find it clears the head,” he said and stood up. “How can I help you?”

“We will be leaving to find Lot in the morning,” Merlin explained, “I was wondering if we might borrow Claiomh Solis.”

Oengus smiled. “You have Fragarach, and I gave Moralltach to the young one. Do you think you will need the sword of light?”

“I do not want to take any chances,” Merlin explained. “Morrigan has her magic, but Nimue has nothing to protect her from Lot or her warriors.” 

Oengus considered it and decided to let them have it. If Rugen’s treasure was impressive, Oengus’ was without equal. Cuchulainn’s chariot, the silver bridle and bit worn by Liath Macha at Moytura. Celchar’s spear steaming in a cauldron of poison. Pieces of the Lia Fail, the stone of destiny, were sitting on a table of gold. Once it had shouted for joy when a true king sat upon the throne on Teamhair. Broken by Cuchulainn for refusing his friend as king, the stone had not spoke in a thousand years.

A ring, such a simple object, rested on a silk cushion of royal blue. It was the ring Ethline, his foster daughter, had worn the day it slipped off her finger and she became lost among mortals. In another life time Merlin had been the one to make the ring.

Fey fire, kept by Rugen in a chasm, burned brilliantly out of two stone alters just inside the doorway. And then he saw the weapons in a smaller room by themselves. Swords that belonged to his brothers, his father’s axe, the weapons of his descendents, those beautiful men who fell during the Tain Bo Cuailnge.   
Merlin could not help but think of another daughter and her beautiful tragic lover. Then he saw it on the wall in a place of honor, the Sword of Nuada, the first Sidhe High King of Ireland. It burned like fire on the brass bars that held it to the wall. Oengus got it down and handed it to Merlin. One of the great treasures of the Danann, the Sword of Light was invincible in battle.

“Magnificent,” Merlin said in awe of the majestic weapon.

“I would not deprive the young queen of protection, but is she strong enough to lift if?” Oengus asked curiously. “That was made for Nuada, and he was a strong man, even larger than you or your young warrior.”

“True,” Merlin agreed and gave it some thought. He looked around the room, his eyes lighting on an elegant sword that was clearly made for a woman’s hand. “Is that Toirneach agus Tintreach?” he asked and handed Nuada’s sword back to Oengus He returned it lovingly to its place of honor. “The sword of Macha?”

“Aye.”

“May I?” Merlin asked before getting it down. Many believed Macha was Morrigan’s sister, and they were close like sisters, but Macha favored horses over ravens. Just as he knew what it was like to live many lives, Macha had also returned several times. The sword in his hand was slender with a slight curve to the blade, and the pommel was a stallion’s head. When he closed his eyes he could still see her, long hair like fire in the wind, sitting astride her gray stallion Liath Macha. Turning to Oengus, he asked again, “May I?”

“Lot will recognize that sword,” Morrigan said with pride. “She went after Lot enough times with it.”

“I only want Nimue to use it to protect herself,” Merlin explained. “I don’t want either her or you to place yourselves in any danger.”

“You care, how sweet,” Morrigan replied affectionately.. “If you were staying in Ireland, I might move in with you.”

“We’d kill each other within the week,” Merlin replied just as affectionately.

“True,” she concurred with a wistful smile.

Oengus smiled and shook his head. “If you two doves, are finished, I will allow use of the sword, but it must be returned to me.”

“Absolutely,” Merlin promised. “The scabbard?”

Oengus kept the scabbards together in a locked box. Unlocking it with a skeleton key, he pulled out a leather scabbard painted a faded blue-green. Golden horses pranced across the leather, while a very old piece of gray mane dangled from it. A belt as soft as kid skin went with it.

Oengus closed the chest and waited for Merlin to say something. Finally he said, “The last time I saw this she was riding away from me.” Remembering things that once were always depressed Merlin, and he did not want to dwell in the past. “I need to take this to her.”

Nimue did not want to leave the magical pool, but the arrival of her father and Morrigan dictated clothing and dry ground. Lancelot stayed in the water with the dobharcu playing fetch. He’d throw a stick and the animal would go retrieve it, although it took a few minutes of rolling in the water and diving before delivering the stick.

“Come out,” Merlin called to the young fey warrior. “We need to talk.” Waiting for Lancelot to step out of the water and close the magic down, he finally said, “Tomorrow we leave for Carrantoohill, in Kerry Co.,” Merlin explained. “There’s a gateway there to the rath of Lot, a Fomorian war goddess.” He offered the sword of Macha to Nimue. “This is Thunder and Lightning, the sword of Macha.”

“My kinswoman,” Morrigan explained and watched as Lancelot dressed without any false modesty. If Morrigan wanted to see what he had, he would show her. “Lot won’t be impressed,” she said, although she certainly was.

“Her loss,” Lancelot replied with a shrug. 

“As that may be,” Merlin continued, “she is…is monstrous. Where we have nipples, she has fangs, and thirteen eyes cover her head. Blood drips out of her hair.” He shuddered at a long ago memory.

“How will we get the iron from her?” Nimue asked.

“We’ll have to beat her down and let me get Fragarach at her throat. She won’t be able to keep anything a secret from us then.”

Lancelot sighed deeply and gazed at Nimue. “Promise me if I tell you to get behind me, you will.”

Nimue was reluctant to make that promise but said instead, “As long as you don’t make a habit out of it.” 

Morrigan, smiling at them, said, “If I tell you to get behind me, you will need to do it. Merlin didn’t mention she’s twice as tall as he is.”

“True, she’s big,” Merlin agreed, “and she keeps a chariot of seadragons.”

“And all we have to do is get you and your sword to her throat?” Lancelot asked skeptically.

“Yes.

“What could go wrong?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lot really did have 13 eyes and mouths where her nipples should have been. 
> 
> I actually had an additional scene where Nimue and Lancelot meet Ecne, the god of wisdom but my computer kept eating the scene. So I gave up and wrote something different.


	18. The Climb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An easy chapter before meeting Lot. Nimue and Lancelot have company of the unexpected kind. The climb to Mt. Carrantouhill. Lancelot is in his elemet.

Leaving the Brug was getting harder for Nimue. Every time they rode out, she wondered if they would ever see it again.

Following the Boyne to the southwest they stayed on flat land, where the farms and orchards grew. A farmer let them sleep in his barn that first night as his cottage was small and he had too many children. Merlin blessed him anyway for his kindness and a dark haired boy brought them some bread and cheese Merlin gratefully accepted it. That mortals would share what little they had made Merlin think kindly of the Irish. Lancelot an excellent hunter of game and fish, left a wild boar at their front door when they rode out in the morning. Finding meat was no problem for Lancelot. 

The next day they rode until they reached the River Shannon where they found a rundown ale house with a stable for the horses. The local men who were having a wee drink before going home stared at them but asked no foolish questions. Merlin offered no explanations. He got them a room some food and drink. The cold was bone deep, and he was growing increasingly more worried. What would Lot want for the piece of iron in her possession? Blood. She would want blood. 

“If she offers an open challenge, I will take it,” he said quietly at the table. 

The others nodded, although each had their own thoughts about this. The bed was not large enough for four, but this time Lancelot had company on the floor. Nimue would not leave his side. He wrapped her in his cloak and held her close to his side. 

A third day on the road found them at the Slieve Mish Mountains, whose sides were covered in snow. On the other side was Carrantuohill. One more night among mortals in Killarney before they crossed the mountain and made their attempt on Carrantuohill. 

A monastery on the island in Lough Leane went back to the seventh century, roughly the same time the Christians attacked the great ash trees of England. Lancelot was lucky he was even alive.

“I’ll get us two rooms, tonight,” he said as they reined in at a promising alehouse. “Maybe they’ll even have some shepherd’s pie.”

“With the sea on the other side of the mountain?” Morrigan asked skeptically. “And in the summer I imagine it’s a pleasant walk over.”

“But this isn’t summer, my dear, and the wind will be cold,” Merlin replied. A boy came out of the stable to take their horses. Merlin paid the price to have them tended to and then gave the boy an extra piece of silver to make sure they were ready to go in the morning.

The alehouse was warm and welcoming. Merlin made sure they had rooms before doing anything else. Panniers and saddle bags and cloaks were left in them. It was still chilly and they kept their cloaks with them, but the heavier outer garments were left in their rooms. 

No shepherd’s pie but the fish was very good. And the ale was plentiful. There was also a storyteller who recounted the tales of the Mighty Finn. Merlin always loved a good story, even one as exaggerated as Finn’s. Tonight the storyteller was recounting Finn’s war with the King of the World. All over a woman, so said the bard. Merlin knew for a fact the war was caused over Irish pirates raiding England, but that was not as much fun as Finn stealing another man’s woman. You could say the Irish loved wife stealing as much as they loved cattle raiding. 

Nimue, tired after the long ride, wanted to go back to their room and lie down. She told Lancelot he could stay and listen to the bard awhile longer if he wanted. Since he could see the door to their room down a hall beyond the bar, he accepted her offer. If anyone tried to bother her, he would see it immediately.

Keeping on her under things, she climbed under the covers and contemplated blowing out the candle. It’s light danced on the wall and threw curious shadows about the room. She closed her eyes and was about to doze off when her the Hidden started whispering to her. Something was in the room with her. Thunder and Lightning was in the bed with her and it was easy to get her hand wrapped around the hilt before sitting up and pointing at the intruder.

“What do you want?” she asked the shadowy being made from the dancing light. The creature solidified. “Madra olc?” What are you doing here?”

Cowering like a beaten dog, he extended his hand in supplication and said, “We fear our queen has forgotten us,” the creature replied. “Fear for our queen.”

Lowering the sword, she sighed wearily and said, “I have not forgotten you, I promise. There’s just places I can not take you.”

Lancelot, sword in hand, burst into the room after hearing voices and sent Madra olc scurrying to Nimue’s side. Merlin and Morrigan were behind him. “Why are you here?” he demanded angrily and sheathed the weapon.

“Fear for queen,” the creature replied anxiously.

Merlin saw there was no danger and backed out of the room closing the door behind him before the locals came to see what was going on. Lancelot irritated still wanted an answer to his question, but he could see it would have to wait. Pulling his blouse over his head and tossing it on a straight back chair with Nimue’s things, he unbuckled his belt and left the sword on the floor within hand’s reach and sat down to remove his boots. Every time he glanced back at Madra olc, the creature grabbed Nimue.   
“Is he going to do that every time I look at him?” Lancelot asked as he stood to remove his trousers before climbing under the covers beside her.

“You scare him,” Nimue said and motioned for Madra olc to make himself a pallet on the floor. 

Turning on his side to face her, he countered, “It gave me a good fright hearing you speaking with someone when you were supposed to be alone.” 

She smiled and cupped his face while he reached over her and put the candle out with his fingers. He positioned himself on top of her. “We have company,” she whispered a protest.

“Let him get his own woman,” Lancelot retorted and dropped his head to kiss her. 

Nimue grinned and said against his lips, “I thought I was tired.”

“I…can…smell…you,” he said between kisses. “I know you want me.” 

Nimue would have to investigate that comment further, but for the time being he was proving to her just how much she wanted him, and by the time his wicked tongue sliced her open, she was beyond thought. Digging her fingers into his hair, she fought to stay quiet as one beautiful shock after another rocked her body.

When he rose on his knees and wiped his chin, the look on his face was pure male pride. Even in the dark she could see how happy he was. She could also see how hard he was. Rolling over she rose on her hands and knees and gazed back over her shoulder when he grabbed her hips and positioned himself. She hoped his momentary pause was because he was admiring the view.

Nimue shuddered when he thrust into her and filled her. Slow at first, just letting her heat flow over him, he resisted the urge to hard thrust for as long as he could. The longer he resisted, the harder the pleasure would be for him. She clenched him tighter, and it was impossible for him to hold back any longer. A deep growl rumbled in his chest before he collapsed on top of her. The heat of his skin warmed her back, and his breath teased the fine hairs on her neck.

Then he pushed up on his hands and rolled off her. Nimue wiggled into his arms and reached for the blanket. Surprisingly he was asleep before she was. It didn’t matter, she kissed his soft mouth and scooted as close to his side as she could get.

Merlin was surprised to find Nimue’s little troll or whatever it was with them. “No one else is coming, are they?” he asked Madra olc.

“None, come,” he replied and stared up at the father of his queen. “No one else come. I told them our queen is well, and her consort is a great lover to her.”

“You didn’t!” Nimue retorted as she led her horse out of the stable.

“Oh yes. Most pleased.”

Nimue glanced around at the grinning Lancelot who was bringing his horse and the ponies out of the stable. “Did you hear that?”

“Oh yes, most pleased,” he answered with a grin. “Come on Madra olc, you can ride one of the ponies.” He set the creature on the back of the gelding and covered him with one of Nimue’s wraps. A hat covered his head.” 

“Doesn’t help much,” Merlin remarked with a sigh. Looking up at Morrigan already mounted on her horse, he said, “Today is it. We cross the mountains on the eastern side where it should be easier going.”

Merlin took the lead with the women and ponies between him and Lancelot. The icy trail made it slow going for the animals, but it was nothing too hazardous. The wind gusts off the mountains slapped them in the face and made them huddle under their cloaks. 

Mid afternoon they reached the foot of Carrantouhill. A natural pyramid, its summit could only be reached on foot using a rough path on its northern side. Lancelot had some rope on the mare and got it down. “You stay here,” he told Nimue’s pet troll. “You can not come with us.” Handing the rope to Merlin, he hobbled the horses. Merlin put a spell on them, hiding them from mortal eyes. They and Madra olc ought to be safe.”

“I’ll lead,” Lancelot offered and took the rope back. 

Morrigan had other ideas. “I’ll meet you on top,” she replied and turned into a raven. 

Nimue enviously watched her fly up the side of the mountain. “That would be a useful trick to learn,” she said.

“Indeed,” Merlin agreed.

There were three possible ascent sights up Carrantouhill according to the locals at the tavern: the devil’s ladder, the heavenly gate, and O’Shea’s Gully. As reluctant as he was to bring the Bible into this, Lancelot looked over the inclines and chose the heavenly gate. Nimue would have an easier go on that trail. Even fey kind needed training to scale mountains, and she was a forest girl.

Their trail had the mountain on one side and a long slope on the other. A fall might not be lethal to them, but it would be a long roll to the bottom. Gazing back down into the valley he could see two small loughs steaming in the afternoon sun. Once it started to go down, it would get considerably colder.

He made a loop in his rope and told Nimue to slip her hand through it. He could pull her along. She didn’t argue this time about anything. This was his element. Merlin had his staff and was used to long walks and talks, but the cold and wind was taking a lot out of him. 

Once they were on the great trail, Lancelot stopped and let Nimue have a moment to catch her breath. From here they could see the ocean before them and Ireland behind them. The sight was majestic. He had seen such things in Scotland, where he had been born and raised until Carden came along.

This climb was steeper but Lancelot was not intimidated by it. He worried about Nimue who couldn’t keep her footing so he stayed closer to her. The snow and ice on the ground made it slippery and there were a few minor missteps, even for him but he kept them climbing upwards. When they reached the top of Eire’s tallest mountain, Merlin stopped to look around. Caher na Feinne was the next peek over. The fort of the Mighty Finn.

Lancelot saw the look in his eyes and said, “No time for a history lesson today, Merlin.” 

“Yes, yes, of course,” the Druid said as Morrigan joined them. The veil between worlds lifted and a cave appeared before them. Down to the realm of Lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Christians cut down the ash trees in the seventh century. that left only a few safe wild places for them in Scotland and Ireland. The actor playing Carden is from Scotland and Daniel shared his accent.


	19. Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fey are forced to fight Lot, but it doesn't go the way any of them think.

Death smelled like carrion to Lancelot, war like fire and blood. The cave at its mouth smelled like all three, but there was an extra scent to it, the ocean. The smell of salty water stung his nostrils. Merlin, two steps ahead of him, stopped and turned back.

“She connected to the bay,” he said and drew his sword. “Interesting.”

Lancelot accepted his assumption without comment and made sure he had Moralltach in hand. The wall around them was smooth polished, and every fifteen steps or so a headless skeleton hung from it. Sacrifice or victim, it didn’t matter. His only thought was that when this was over, he didn’t want his body on the wall.

Merlin turned again to Lancelot. “Don’t show fear,” he said, although his own pulse had increased substantially. Lancelot nodded. He knew how to hide his thoughts and emotions. 

The floor of the cavern turned into a stairway wide and well worn. Merlin lit his staff and gazed back at Nimue, her eyes wide in the darkness. He cautiously continued. A rather fresh headless carcass dangled from the wall on their right. The clothing hanging in shreds from the body was unrecognizable to either man.

A faint light appeared before them that got brighter as they continued downwards. Merlin stopped, someone was coming, two someones actually. Lancelot moved to Merlin’s side and together they created a living wall between whatever was approaching them and Nimue and Morrigan. Nimue drew her sword just in case; Morrigan opted to let the boys play hero.

The beings that stopped in front of them were taller than Merlin, their faces ashen white splattered with blood, like dead bodies on a battlefield. “Terror and Fear,” Merlin said aloud as a way to let the others know who they were. The two beings looked identical.  
“Lot said to go away.”

“I come in peace and wish to speak with her,” Merlin explained, although he imagined Lot would not consider Peace a welcomed attribute.

Terror and Fear looked at the swords in their hands and recognized them. “And yet you bring Fragarach and Moralltach,” one of them replied,

“Only a fool faces War empty handed,” Merlin answered. 

“She will skin your bones and suck the marrow out of them.”

“Then she would have earned it,” Merlin countered indifferently. To show fear now was to lose the contest. The two beings laughed and turned away, vanishing in the light. Merlin waited a moment and then continued down the steps towards the light. 

The great hall before them was a mix of cultures, all victims of Lot’s insatiable appetite for war. A great round pool of water that no doubt opened on the ocean lay before them. Blood red banners, prizes of war hung on the wall. Each one was stained in the colors of death. It appeared Death and War had similar tastes in décor.

“What do you want, Merlin?” a harsh female voice asked from the thin air.

“To speak with you about a piece or iron you have.”

Nimue automatically took a step behind Lancelot when a woman, or something that resembled a woman materialized before them. Twice as tall as Merlin, she was truly monstrous in her appearance. Multiple eyes covered her forehead and her powerful nude body only vaguely resembled a woman. Where human and fey had nipples, she had fangs savage and protruding from blood red mouths. 

Out of the pool two large sea dragons beached themselves like seals and turned their serpentine heads towards the fey. Scaled and sharp toothed with spikes on their tails, they made a rumbling purring sound deep in their throats as they looked around at the fey. Lancelot focused his attention on them. 

Terror and Fear reappeared with weapons designed to break bone and tear open skin and muscle. Lancelot knew them intimately. Merlin needed to focus on Lot, but he didn’t know if he could handle four of these creatures. Nimue moved to his side with sword in hand ready to use.

“Keep the dragons off me, but do not put yourself at risk,” he whispered to her. Nimue only nodded.

“Just tell me what you will trade for the iron,” Merlin said carefully, “and we won’t have to go through this.” 

“I look forward to this,” Lot answered and drew a huge polished bone spear from a scabbard hidden on her back. 

Readying himself for the fight, Merlin glanced at Lancelot and said, “Take their heads. It’s the only way to defeat them.”

Lancelot quickly shucked off his outer garments and moved to face Terror and Fear. Nimue eased towards the pool and the dragons. Morrigan stayed where she was and created a spell that held the Fomorians in their current forms. No vanishing when things got difficult for them, and she was certain it was about to get very difficult.

Lancelot and the twins started the dance. He had learned from the Trinity Guard to not let anything hard and round with spikes make contact with his body. The flails carried by the twins were larger and nastier, and right now they were getting a feel for him, and vice versa. Terror swung against him hard driving him back towards the wall. He ducked as the sharp spiked ball crashed into the wall, splintering it. Moving as fast as he could, he narrowly avoided Fear’s flail but he did manage to slice into Terror’s leg.

Enraged and spilling blood, he forgot about Moralltach and went after Lancelot even harder swinging the flail at his head while Fear went low. Lancelot rolled and came up beside Terror. Moralltach took his head. Fear stepped back and stared at his brother for a moment before snatching up the lost flail. Turned out he was proficient with both of them. 

Merlin made no attempt to attack Lot, and she was content to just toy with him, approaching him and swiping her great boned sword at him. When she got tired of playing, she would move in for the hoped for kill.

The smell of blood had the dragons enraged. They hissed and snapped at Nimue, but she would not let them out of the water. 

Merlin did not want to be distracted as Lot toyed with him, but from the corner of his eye he saw something running towards Morrigan. Madra olc! Damn! 

One of the flails ripped open Lancelot’s left shoulder stunning him. He staggered back blood pouring over his arm and down his chest. A terrifying scream went up, startling everyone but Merlin. He never moved faster as he brought Fragarach around to connect with Lot’s neck. Steel cut through bone and Lot’s head fell off. But you can’t kill war.

Merlin snatched the head up before her body could find it. “Stop this!” he snarled angrily and pointed the sword at her enormous nose. “I may not be able to kill you, but I can cut you up into so many small pieces your body will never be able to find all of them.” 

Madra olc ran to Nimue screaming, “My queen! My queen!”

Lancelot crawled to his feet as Fear stepped back, unsure of his next move. Madra olc ran by the pool and was suddenly snapped up by one of the dragons. Nimue yelled his name, but it was Lancelot who acted. The dragon turned to look at him as he swung Moralltach and sliced the creature’s head off. It sank immediately and he dove in after it much to everyone’s surprise. The second dragon turned and followed.

Nimue yelled for him to come back, but he was gone. Pools of blood swelled up from the bottom and then all was still. Morrigan moved to the young queen’s side. Lancelot appeared with a terrified Madra olc on his back. Morrigan reached down to help him out when she noticed something coming up from below.

“Nimue, something’s coming after them,” she said and dragged on Lancelot’s good arm, getting him out of the water. A serpentine head rose out of the water, and Lancelot looked back with fear in his eyes, but Nimue was ready. Thunder and Lightning tasted blood when she took the beast’s head. 

Merlin turned his attention back to the head he was carrying. “Where is the iron?” he asked firmly.

“I don’t have it.”

“Liar!”

“Has Fragarach lost its power?”

She had a point. “Where is it then?” he asked suspiciously, hoping that it wasn’t at the bottom of that pool.

“I gave it to Indech’s daughter,” the head replied and started laughing as Merlin’s face reflected his horror.

“Why?” he asked in alarm.

“Because she asked me once she saw Nemglan’s birds were looking for it.”

Merlin didn’t need to guess why Caelfind wanted the iron; he knew exactly why she wanted the iron. She wanted to trap a male sidhe into mating with her. That’s the only time she EVER associated with the sidhe. And he suspected no male sidhe ever got desperate enough to mate with Caelfind voluntarily. Yes, yes, the Dagda got her pregnant once, but that was several thousands of years ago, and the Dagda was not one for turning down sex EVER. 

He looked at Lancelot who was lying on his side being tended to by the women. Nimue’s little troll was crouched beside her wringing its hands. “Is he going to be all right?” Merlin asked.

“Hurts a little and is soaking wet, but he’ll be fine with some rest,” Morrigan replied and made a sling out of Terror’s tunic for his arm. She and Nimue helped him to his feet. Deciding that he would be more comfortable, Nimue helped him shed the wet blouse, while Morrigan helped him into his dry outer garments.

“We’ll end up spoiling him,” Morrigan warned Nimue.

“Sometimes you need to,” Nimue answered. He had lost quite a bit of blood if the red stain on his blouse was any indication. 

Merlin pointed the sword at Lot’s head and said, “Neither you nor anything that is yours will seek revenge on us. Swear it.”

Fragarach would not let her lie. “I swear,” Lot replied angrily.

“Nor on any of our descendents or friends. Swear it.”

“I swear,” the angry goddess answered.

Merlin set the head on a smooth stone not far from the groping body. They would connect eventually. “We need to go.”

Going down the trail involved a lot of slipping and sliding, but they made it to the horses and ponies without incident. It was awkward mounting for Lancelot but not something entirely alien.  
They were back in Killarney before midnight. Merlin got a watchman out of bed, paid gold for the rooms and gave the stable boy sleeping in the hay a piece of silver to tend to their horses.

The pub was closed for the night, and the rooms were cold but the night watchman got them settled. Lancelot was so cold he was shaking under his outer clothes. Nimue pulled the heavy damp tunic and cape over his head, and for a moment she thought he was going to start bleeding again he was shaking so hard. Grabbing a folded quilt off the bed, she opened it up and covered his shoulders with it. 

She picked up his right foot and tugged the boot off it. The sock followed, but she left it out to dry. The left one followed. “Stand up,” she said and turned him so she could unlace his trousers. He was holding the quilt over his head, but she could see his face. Why did misery have to look so beautiful? 

Lancelot’s trousers were ice cold and dragged down his skin as she pulled them off. For a moment Nimue wondered if she would be doing this to a child of her own? After much trial error, Nimue got Lancelot undressed and under covers. She stripped down to the skin and crawled under the covers with him. Madra olc made his bed on the floor beside her. 

Facing Lancelot’s broad back, she clung to him, letting the heat of their bodies mingle. She was so much smaller than he but could press against him and wrap her arm over his body. She could kiss the cold skin at his neck and run her hand down his cold arm. Nimue eventually felt him unwind and relax as he warmed beneath the blankets. Then and only then did she go to sleep.

Nimue awoke early when a faint shade of gray light filtered into the room. Lancelot was still asleep, and she decided to let him rest. In the faint light she could see the flail wound on his left shoulder and arm. She had not realized until now just how deep it was. Dressing quickly and taking Madra olc with her, she went outside under the guise of seeing to the horses to speak with him. 

Kneeling on one knee so she wouldn’t be towering over him, she said, “Madra olc, you know your queen loves you, but you must go home now. I can not take you with me.”

“Queen angry at Madra olc?” he asked fearfully, his eyes growing even wider if that was possible.

“No,” she assured him. “But I am afraid something will hurt or kill you and neither Lancelot nor I will be able to prevent it. So, as your queen, I am saying, go home. I will come for you, I promise.”

Madra olc looked sad but obeyed his queen. Turning away, he vanished. “I wish I could do that,” Nimue muttered to herself and went back inside. Merlin and Morrigan were up having a simple breakfast with some hot tea. She decided to join them.

“Where’s Lancelot?” Merlin asked curiously.

“Still asleep. He was almost frozen when we reached here last night,” Nimue replied as a bowl of porridge was delivered to her. A mug of tea with a splash of something extra followed.

Merlin looked hesitant for a moment and then said, “We need to speak about Caelfind.”

Nimue, finding the porridge warm and filling, looked up at her father and asked, “Who is she?”

“Most people know her as Indech’s daughter,” Merlin began. “Indech was a powerful Fomorian king, the son of their goddess Dommanu. Caelfind is Dommanu’s granddaughter.”

“And she has the piece of iron that we need?”

“Yes.”

“How do we get it?”

“We make a trade,” Morrigan answered for the squirming Merlin. 

“Easy enough. What would she want?”

“A baby,” Morrigan answered with a grin. “Caelfind has wanted a baby for some time now and no one has offered to help her.”

Merlin took a sip of tea and said, “She has an army of males at her disposal, but she fancies sidhe when she gets broody.”

Nimue understood now. Gazing affectionately at her father, she said, “You do what you need to do. I will hold no ill thoughts against you.”

“You are very kind,” Merlin answered, “but I do not believe I will be able to assist her. I was magicless when you were born. I have my full powers now, and well….I don’t think it’s possible.”

Nimue’s mouth dropped open. “Then what do we do?” she asked before realizing they were both staring at her. “Lancelot? You want me to give Lancelot to her?”

“Only for the night,” Morrigan assured her with a smile. “She’ll give him back.”

Nimue looked down at her bowl suddenly no longer hungry. Lancelot was hers! Dammit! But without the iron the entire journey would be pointless. She had to! He was coming. Turning around, she smiled. He was wearing his full gear to keep warm and to hide the wound from prying eyes.

“Where’s Madra olc?” he asked and pulled a chair up to the table.

“I sent him home. How are you?”

“Sore, but I’ll be all right,” he assured her as porridge was brought to him. He was starving. “I’m glad you sent Madra olc home. I like him, but he’s just walking prey.”

“That’s what I thought,” Nimue said and laid a hand over his. “We need to talk.”

That wasn’t good. “What about?” he asked and paused in shoveling the food into his mouth.

“Lot gave the iron to Indech’s daughter,” Merlin answered and buttered a piece of bread.

“How do we get it back?” he asked and resumed eating.

“Give her a baby,” Merlin answered as if it was no obstacle.

“Where are we going to find her a baby?” Lancelot asked and raised his head. A glance at Nimue’s trouble expression and Morrigan’s laughing one told him exactly where they were going to give her a baby. Turning to Nimue he asked, “You want me to mate with her?”

“I do not,” she assured him, “but at the moment we have no other options.”

Morrigan smiled and buttered her own piece of bread. “She’s been wanting a baby for some time now, but no one wanted to spend the time with her.”

Lancelot wasn’t interested in the details. He was only interested in what Nimue was thinking and wanted him to do. “I will do whatever you need me to do,” he said carefully.

Nimue sighed deeply. “Maybe another option will present itself, but you needed to know that was a possibility.”

Lancelot bobbed his head and turned to Merlin. “When do we leave?”

“We’ll drop the horses and ponies off at the Brug before continuing. Caelfind lives on an island, a cold one this time of the year if I remember.” 

“It is,” Morrigan agreed. “You know we need to make a list of what she can and cannot do to you,” she told Lancelot.

“What?” Nimue asked, not understanding the look that passed between Lancelot and Morrigan. “Why?”

“Sometimes to make an uninterested man interested, a love potion is used,” Morrigan answered. “She has her own personal magic, but she can also cast spells and make potions. The latter is the easiest.”

“I don’t want her to use anything on him,” Nimue replied indignantly. The very idea she would agree to magic potions was beyond her. “No, I won’t have it.”

“And if he needs help?” Morrigan asked the young queen. “She won’t give up the iron unless she gets what she wants.”

“Make Fragarach tell us where it is,” Nimue countered angrily.

“We already know where it is,” Merlin answered quietly.

“Where?”

“Domnu is holding it for her. At the bottom of the sea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Indech's daughter is one of the more interesting characters in Irish myth. For a baby by the Dagda, she agrees to betray her father.


	20. Caelfind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caelfind wants a baby, Morrigan thinks Lancelot needs some help and makes him a potion. How much is potion and how much is Lancelot?

Oengus and Nemglan were genuinely surprised when Merlin showed up with the news that Caelfind had the piece of iron. “Neither one of you would want to trade with her, would you?” the druid asked them at supper.

“Not even in my nightmares,” Nemglan replied at this little private meal with just their immediate families. “What are you going to do?”

“We either abandon the iron or…” Merlin glanced at Lancelot. “I’m certain I would be useless in this matter.”

Oengus could see the concern on Lancelot’s face as he studied the food on his plate. “She won’t hurt you. As for any child, she will raise it decently and it will live a good sedentary life.” All of this was true. The child would also never learn about him or even realize he was the father. For the sidhe this was the most unsavory part about it. The not knowing who. 

Nemglan is his long life had sired many mortal children, and some of them went on to be mighty kings and queens, but there was always that moment of sadness when seeing them pass before you. Oengus had no mortal children by birth, but he had had a foster son once who had been a mortal. He had also had a foster daughter of the sidhe who had chosen living among the Christians, which ultimatelyZ led to her dying of a broken heart. 

“It just seems wrong to me,” Lancelot replied. “Immoral.”

Oengus did not stop eating, but he stared at the young fey warrior for few moments before saying, “We are neither moral nor immoral. We simply are.”

“Is there no right and wrong then?” Lancelot asked curiously. “Does the sword make us right?”

Oengus paused in thought. “It did once,” he said. “That sword you carry has removed the heads of enemies and some family members as well. But it is just a tool, no different than a hammer or spoon.”

“Spoons don’t kill,” Lancelot countered, not angrily but with the conviction that the sword was more than just a tool.

Oengus leaned towards him and said, “Here me out. When I was your age, I had already fought in a war, tricked my step father out of this sith, won the hand of my lady Edain for my brother, and learned earth magic that allows me to move trees and change the course of rivers. I can do all of this, but I don’t anymore.”

“You could help the fey in Great Britain,” Nimue muttered under her breath, Oh yes, Oengus heard it.

Oengus settled back in his chair and studied the young queen a moment. “Do you want me to help you more than I already have? I can call up a sidhe army and wipe out all the soldiers opposing you. Let the world know that Oengus mac Og is alive and well and his warriors are second to none?”

“I did not mean to offend you,” Nimue said apologetically.

Oengus waved his hand. “You didn’t, but every sidhe who dies of old age or in battle may not be replaceable. Our fertility is on the decline, and that comes from hiding who and what we are, but we must. Mortals are replacing us at a faster rate, and one day if things continue, I will pass into the twilight and everything here will vanish.”

“And there is no way to stop this?” Lancelot asked.

“There is, and maybe one day I will do it,” Oengus replied. “Until then, we need to focus on finding the cauldron pieces to save your people.” 

Lancelot lying naked on the bed with his hands folded over his abdomen should have been an invitation to pounce, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Nimue leaned over him and stared into his face until he acknowledged her and smiled. She knew what he was thinking and didn’t ask any stupid questions. “We’ll be all right,” she said affectionately.

“I hope so,” he said and slipped his hand behind her neck to bring her down for a kiss. Nimue took his lower lip into her mouth and gently nibbled and sucked on it. He liked a little pain but only a little. She moved along his jaw to his ear. He moaned softly and cupped her breasts with his large warm hands. Lancelot really loved her breasts

His shoulder was still stiff from the flail wound, a sizeable amount of meat ripped away, but it didn’t hurt enough to keep him from his lady’s arms. Nimue would have been content to just snuggle and shower him with kisses, but Lancelot wanted something more substantial. And every time she tried to convince him that he needed one more day to let his arm and shoulder rest he would give her a bright-eyed grin that said he didn’t want to wait one more day. A compromise of sorts was reached when she climbed on top of him and turned to face his cock. And he buried his nose in her pussy. He was a happy boy, and she had no complaints.

The next morning very early, Merlin unfolded his curragh and set it in the Boyne River. With what they needed in packs, everyone climbed into the leather boat. “Island of Mull,” Merlin said authoritatively. The leather boat slid sideways and the then sped down the river towards the Irish Sea. Wind swept waves rolled around them, but none of the interesting sea creatures showed themselves. A small pod of dolphins passed, no doubt hurrying off to tell Domnu that Manannan mac Lir was asea. 

Staying within sight of the Irish coast, the curragh sped northwards up the channel. And cut across open water to the coast of Scotland. With Mull as a destiny, the curragh entered the Firth of Lorn. Before reaching the island, Merlin ordered the curragh to enter Loch Uisge an open waterway in a rift valley that ended before connecting with Loch Ness. Ben Nevis the highest mountain in Scotland rose over the loch on the right. Staring up at it, Lancelot felt a familiar stirring inside of him. He knew this place.

Reaching the end of the loch, they had to climb out, shoulder their packs and proceed on foot. At some point on their walk, they picked up a kelpie content to just follow them. The black horse like creature would have been dangerous to mortals, but fey kind did not fear it. A second kelpie joined them and followed the first. A water bull followed them.

Merlin thought it all rather humorous. When they stopped to make camp, the magical animals went their own way. “I always knew horses would follow a man but never a kelpie,” he said and made a small fire. The cry of a wolf floated over the valley from the direction of the great peak. A trio of wolves answered on the other side. Such long lonely cries. 

Everyone took turns staying up while the others slept. Nimue was awake when she spotted something off in the distance, a creature shaped like a man with a wolf’s head. She grabbed up her sword, but the creature turned and faded back into the darkness. When she told Merlin about it in the morning, he smiled and said, “A wulver. You saw a wulver.”

“Are they dangerous?” she asked curiously.

“No. They are ancient,” Merlin explained as they broke camp. “Becoming rarer every century.” He resumed their march towards Loch Ness. A shaggy dog joined them for most of the walk, but it eventually turned around and went home. Lancelot hated to see it leave. If it had stayed with them, he would have taken it.

Reaching the loch Merlin put the curragh back into the water and they all climbed it. They would be able to exit the loch into the Moray Firth and continue northward on the eastern side of Scotland. Naturally they drew the attention of the loch’s current resident that the locals called the Loch Ness Monster. These creatures were actually trapped sea dragons who had followed fish runs into the loch when they were little things and got trapped from over eating.

The beast that reared its head out of the water to look them over was just a curious juvenile. Merlin shooed it away without incident. Lancelot paid it no mind at all, his eyes on the highlands around them. He was becoming drunk on its beauty, an ache growing inside of him to travel these hills on foot, to reclaim his birthright. 

When they finally entered the river, the day was beginning to wane. There was a settlement at the mouth of the river, where they found someone with a stable to let them spend the night. It was better than the cold camp. A dog joined them and slept in the straw beside Nimue and Lancelot. He automatically stroked its head.

“I’ll get you a dog when this is over,” Nimue promised as she went to sleep with her head in his lap. He smiled, leaned his head back and went to sleep. Tomorrow they would reach Caelfind’s hidden palace in the Orkneys. 

Scooting up the coast in a northeasterly direction, they rounded the horn of Scotland and sailed right into the Orkney Islands, so called for the wild boar that once lived here. Crossing the open water to an archipelago of 70 islands. Their destination was South Ronaldsay Island and a place called the Tomb of the Eagles. An ancient cairn that didn’t look like much with the human eye, but with fey magic it opened into a grand fey palace. Caelfind and her hand select guard was waiting for them.

A regal looking woman who wore her three thousand years of life as well as Morrigan did. Flaming haired with skin as white as snow, she greeted them. “Manannan, you’ve changed.”

“I am not as blessed as you,” he said and kissed her offered hand.

“Flattery at our age?”

“I am a simple man.”

“Indeed,” she replied and acknowledged Morrigan. “It’s been awhile.”

“Orkney is such out of the way for me,” Morrigan answered honestly. Truthfully she and Caelfind had a negative history. She had fucked Caelfind’s father and stole his magic; Caelfind had fucked the Dagda and had her first child by him. Indech died because of Morrigan’s actions; Dagda died because of Ceitlinn’s. Took him forty years to die, but he eventually succumbed to his wound. 

“The young queen I have heard so much about,” Caelfind greeted Nimue, “and her consort.” She appraised Lancelot with a sharp eye. “I like him. Nice long legs.”

“He’s not a horse,” Nimue protested indignantly.

Caelfind smiled at Nimue and turned back to Merlin. “Hungry? I’ve had a little meal prepared in your honor before we get down to business.”

This all felt surreal to Lancelot. Now he understood why the other men did not want to ‘visit’ her. 

After a meal of very nice seafood Morrigan and Caelfind decided it was time to negotiate. These would be the rules they would abide by. Morrigan right from the start with a glass of wine in hand said, “No blood.”

“Not even a little?” Caelfind teased and winked at a very uncomfortable Lancelot.

“None,” Morrigan replied. “And claws must be sheathed.” She ignored the way Lancelot grimaced. 

“All right, but if he needs some help….”

“I will make the potion,” Morrigan finished for her.

“You don’t trust me?”

“No.”

“And yet you were the one who used magic on my father.” Caelfind reminded the other woman. “How long were you in his bed stealing his magic?”

“We were at war. I needed to make sure my side won.” Repeating her comment, Morrigan said, “If he needs any kind of help, I will do it. I do not want you using your spells on him.”

Nimue, completely flabbergasted by this, said, “I don’t want any potion or spells used on him.”

Morrigan looked at her and said, “Do you want him to try and do this on his own? If he can’t we have done all this for nothing.”

“I trust Morrigan,” Lancelot spoke up. His insides were a mess of nerves, and if something could take the edge off it, he wanted it. But he genuinely trusted Morrigan.

“I will get him back the way he leaves me?” Nimue asked, learning that one needed to be specific around the sidhe.

“For the most part, yes,” Morrigan answered. “He won’t have amnesia or anything like that, and he might even like uninhibited sex, but he’ll still be him.” Sh winked at Lancelot. Turning back to Caelfind, she said, “And just to make sure you don’ t take advantage of him, I will be there.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“I have never trusted you,” Morrigan replied and stood up. “Are we done?”

“I’m satisfied,” Caelfind replied and stood with her. “Shall we begin?”

“Might as well get it over with,” Morrigan answered and nodded at Lancelot who looked like he’d rather run than follow those two women.

“You make it sound like such a chore,” Caelfind laughed.

“Wait,” Nimue stopped them, “where is the iron?” 

Everyone stopped and looked at her and then back at Caelfind who smiled and said, “You will get it the moment he does his service to me.” 

“He has a name,” Nimue snapped.

“And I don’t want to know it,” Caelfind answered. “It would be better for both of us if I didn’t know it.”

Lancelot didn’t say anything, he never really did, but his brow was knotted in anger. Morrigan saw it and smiled. A little anger was good. She glanced back at Merlin who had stayed seated and was now buttering a piece of bread. 

Lancelot knew what he had to do and was struggling between anger and bone chilling fear. Morrigan could see his flight or fight response was growing substantially the closer they got to Caelfind’s private quarters, and she was certain now he was going to need a little magic to calm down. “Do you keep herbs in your rooms for potions?” Morrigan asked the other woman.

Caelfind looked back at Lancelot who almost stopped walking. “I have what you will need on the table. You can’t miss them.” 

Morrigan entered Caelfind’s rooms ahead of Lancelot and watched as she disappeared into another room. As amusing as it was to her, Lancelot’s fear was beginning to win out over the anger. She stopped at the door and waited for him to enter ahead of her. “Undress and put your things over there,” she said and pointed to a chair while she checked out the table of potions.

She recognized most of the ingredients in the little bowls and bottles and avoided the ones she did not. He was undressing behind her, and when she heard him sit on the edge of the bed, she knew he was preparing himself to do or die. In her own way, she loved him as much as Nimue did. Once she had everything prepared, she added it to a cup of wine and mixed it thoroughly. 

“All right,” she said and took it to him. “This might make you a little drunk, but it will also help with your arousal.”

Trust is a remarkable thing. He asked no questions and drank it right down. She sat on the bed beside him to see if her mixture worked. With his face hiding his thoughts, he asked Morrigan, “Why not her own men?”

Morrigan thought about it a moment and said, “Caelfind believes that too much dark mating just creates more chaos. Sidhe or fey blood keeps some of the darker aspects away.”

“So it is like breeding horses or hounds,” he replied thoughtfully. “I’m not an animal.”

“No, you’re not,” she agreed and noticed the way his nostrils flared. The drug was beginning to take effect. Now was the most dangerous time. Lancelot was a man who liked to be in complete control of his senses, and that was being taken away from him. He fell back on the bed, his eyes on the ceiling, his hand covering his groin. Thankfully he didn’t fight it. The heat rose in his skin along with the beat of his heart. His hand on his groin sent sparks up his spine when he folded it around his growing erection. Lancelot was enjoying it.

“I like this,” he purred and fixed his eyes on Morrigan. 

Oh yes, the young warrior was going to do more than what’s needed, Morrigan thought just before he sat up and grabbed her. He moved so quickly she didn’t have time to react. He had her by the back of the neck and was kissing her open mouthed, his tongue teasing the inside of her mouth curling along the soft palate. She fought her way back and snapped, “No! Not me!”

He drew back and purred, “Are you sure you don’t want to mate with an animal?”

Morrigan laid her hand affectionately on his cheek and said, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” he replied. “I can smell you.”

Caelfind entered the chamber. “Is he ready?” she asked and sat on the bed.

His answer was to force her back on the pillows and to dip his long fingers into her nether regions. “You don’t want to know my name?” he asked curiously and fixed his attention on her breasts. He liked breasts. They reminded him of ripe fruit waiting to be tasted. And he loved the way Nimue mewed when he took one into his mouth. Would Caelfind mew for him? Would she? 

Morrigan was not a voyeur by nature and started to get up and go find some place to hide, but his long arm shot out and grabbed hers. “Stay,” he growled. “In fact, undress.”

“Lance, this is not a good idea,” she said warily. “Do it!” he snapped and looked back down at Caelfind. “You want me to be an animal?” he asked and repositioned himself so he could use his long tongue on her pussy. He could smell her arousal. Caelfind gasped and dug her fingers into his shoulders. He had her moaning wantonly when he rose up and buried himself inside of her. But as he fucked her, he fixed his eyes on Morrigan. 

The raven witch smiled. Lancelot in his own mind was committing a sin and he was going to enjoy every bloody second of it. Caelfind shrieked as a powerful orgasm shook her and she tightened up all over, clenching his penis hard. Lancelot paused just long enough to flip her over and slam back into her. With his hair falling over one eye, his lips curled in a snarl, he was everything Morrigan remembered about another feral child. The moment his own orgasm hit, he threw his head back and clinched his teeth harder. Coming down from his sexual high he stared at Morrigan, but this was one fantasy she could not let happen. She had removed her top but had kept the leather trousers on. Even an oversexed Lancelot couldn’t fuck through leather. So while Caelfind got ready for round two, Lancelot of the overcharged passion got on his knees and turned to Morrigan. She met him on her knees.

“No,” she said and pointed a finger at his nose. “No.” She hated speaking to him like that, but he refused to pay attention any other way.

He looked at the finger and then back at her face. His eyes were thoroughly wicked when he said, “Yes.”

“Nimue would kill both of us,” Morrigan protested. “Remember Nimue, the woman you love?” Ever look into a man’s eyes and realize there was just nothing there? “If I ever have to do this again, I am halving the amount I use.” 

Caelfind laid her hand on his thigh and said, “I’m ready.”

Lancelot spun around and grabbed her hand, holding it firmly in his. “What’s my name?” he asked.

“I don’t need to know it,” she answered with a frown. He wasn’t hurting her, but his grip was quite tight.

Morrigan knew that was a mistake. Lancelot kept her hand in his when he lowered his head to her breast. No nipple was ever teased so sensuously. He sucked on one and then the other, his tongue lapping at the sensitive skin. The first time Caelfind mewed he raised his head and asked, “What is my name?” 

“I don’t know,” she panted and then jerked when his long fingers found the moist place between their bodies and stroked it. 

He slowed and stopped but did not remove his fingers. “What is my name?” he asked again. 

Caelfind stared at him in amazement until one of those long fingers brushed her intimately. She gasped and then looked at Morrigan who was impressed with her boy. Lance was playing dirty and loving it. “What is his name?” Caelfind asked in growing desperation.

“Lancelot,” Morrigan answered with a smile. “His name is Lancelot.”

“Say it,” he told her, his lips now close to hers. He would not give her what she wanted until she acknowledged him as a man and not an animal.

“Lancelot,” she murmured. 

And before he was finished, she was repeating his name against his mouth, shoulder, breast….

**************************

Nimue was getting impatient. “He’s all right,” Merlin said as he read an ancient book that Caelfind had lying around.

“They should be back by now,” Nimue stated anxiously. Hearing footsteps she turned towards the sound and was relieved when Lancelot and Morrigan appeared. He tossed Merlin the piece of iron.

“You appear none the worse for wear,” the druid said and stood up. Tucking the iron in his bag, he asked, “All well?”

“She says we did it,” Lancelot replied and fought down a yawn. “What now?”

“Scotland awaits,” Merlin said and led the little troop back to the rocky beach. Once they were under way, Lancelot laid his head in Nimue’s lap and went to sleep. A part of her wanted to know what happened, and another part didn’t want to know anything.


	21. Teamhair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oengus goes with them to Teamhair.

Merlin looked at the cauldron and frowned. “Two more pieces,” he told Oengus and Morrigan, who were in the workshop with him. He looked at his list and frowned harder. “I can’t make sense out of this. How did we miss one?” The chilling thought was that the piece they needed was in the hands of someone underwater, like Domnu.

“Let’s concentrate on the one we can get,” Morrigan suggested and turned to Oengus. “Are you riding with us or flying?”

“I’ll ride,” he said. “I haven’t been on a long ride in ages.”

“Do you even remember how?” Merlin teased with a smile. Oengus had once been a fine horseman.

“We shall see,” Oengus countered while making a funny face. It was good to be bantering with mac Lir again, even if he called himself Merlin. “When do you want to ride out?”

“Tomorrow morning will be fine. It’s late in the day and I don’t want to spend the night in a cold camp.”

The water in the granite bath was good and hot, washing the salt spray off Nimue’s skin and out of her hair. Morrigan had explained to her that a potion had been used to help Lancelot get through his ordeal and that that was why he slept every chance her got. He had fallen belly down on the bed the moment he had washed the salt off his skin. Now he slept in a long stretched out heap in the middle of the bed. 

Leaving the bath and wrapping herself in a warm bed coat, she sat on the bed beside him and gently stroked his disheveled hair. He opened his eyes and murmured, “I’m not asleep.”

“You had me fooled,” she replied and stretched out on her side facing him. He opened one eye and smiled at her. She scooted closer and rested her leg across the small of his back. Brushing a stray lock out of his face, she asked, “You would tell me if something bothered you, wouldn’t you?”

He hesitated a moment and then said, “I would.”

“Then you are not bothered by what happened with Caelfind?” she asked curiously.

He was studying her face and didn’t answer right away. Finally he said, “I am not bothered. Are you?”

“Only that no one should force you to do anything against your will,” she answered readily.

“It had to be done,” he answered quietly and raised his hand to stroke her head. He smiled and moved just enough to plant a soft kiss on the top of her head. That wasn’t enough; she wanted a real kiss and moved so she could press her lips to the corner of his mouth. He smiled and turned over. Now she could prop herself on his chest and kiss his mouth to her heart’s content. A stubborn sadness pressed itself against her heart. A strange woman was going to have his child, while hers was lost. This wasn’t fair. She lay her head against his breast and listened to the slow steady beat of his heart. He continued to tenderly stroke her soft hair with his large strong hand. 

“I love you,” he whispered softly, his voice caressing her deep within her body. 

Tears sprang into her eyes, but she kept her thoughts to herself. They were both young and healthy, and Morrigan said it might take a little time for her body to return to normal. It wasn’t until a hot tear fell on his skin that he realized she was crying. Sitting up he made her look at him, and the tears she tried to hide stunned him.

He smoothed the hair away from her face and said, “Tell me why you are crying?”

“I just wish…wish.” She stopped and laid her head on his shoulder. He was so warm and smelled of things green and growing. The tears returned to her eyes. Lancelot was helpless and didn’t know what to do. He held her more firmly, his arms wrapped around her.

“Tell me what to do,” he spoke gently into her ear.

“I want my baby,” she whispered and hid her face against his neck. 

“I do not know how to find it,” he said softly, apologetically. 

She found a smile and raised her head. “I love you,” she said and kissed him gently on the lips. “I do not expect you to go find what we lost.” She encircled his neck with her arms and gazed warmly into his eyes. “When I am better, we will have another.”

Lancelot had never connected himself to Nimue’s child, but she seemed so certain now that it had been his. The angry voice in his head had told him it was Arthur’s, but now he wasn’t so sure. Holding her tightly he lay back with her in his arms. She was fragile tonight and only wanted to be held. This he could do.

If only the dreams would leave him alone. 

The horses were saddled and ready to go when Merlin arrived at the stables. In addition to their horses, the ponies were staying behind this time, there were two other horses saddled, one for Oengus and the other for Riagain. The white stallion with the red ears was Oengus’ horse, a descendent of one he had owned life times ago. The powerful gray belonged to Riagain who was going armed to the teeth. He made Lancelot look under dressed.

Of course Oengus’ people did not like him leaving them. What would happen if he didn’t return? How would they survive? His women were particularly distressed that he was leaving without them. It was enough to make Nemglan mount up and join the ride to Teamhair.

Riagain led the way out of the Brug; Lancelot brought up the rear. Nimue couldn’t help but smile when she dropped back to ride beside him. “You are a good man,” she said proudly.

“When I am three thousand years old, I will challenge him,” Lancelot replied easily. “Until then I will do what is needed.”

“He’s three thousand years old?” she asked in amazement.

“And he’s not fey,” Lancelot added. “If anything happens to Oengus, he, his wife and children will all die. That’s why he is so fierce to protect him.”

Nimue thought about it a moment. “This must be nerve wracking for them.”

Lancelot nodded in agreement. Thinking back on the previous night, he asked, “Are you feeling better?” He had not mentioned his nightmare to her, nor did he intend to.

“Talking helped,” she said. “I still want my own baby.”

“When you are healthy again, it will happen,” he said with a smile. “We’ll be back in England then.” 

She was quiet for a minute or so before saying, “I know we have to go back, but I am going to miss what I’ve seen here.”

Lancelot smiled. He didn’t want to go back either, but it was not for the same reasons 

They reached their destination by noon, a hill that had once been the capital of sidhe Ireland. It didn’t look like much with mortal eyes, but through sidhe eyes the past was still alive as an echo from that other time. Nimue and Lancelot watched time slide backwards as Oengus used his powers to find the time his father lived. Merlin’s eyes reflected his eagerness, while Riagain scowled at the imagery that is passing before his eyes. Nemglan stood beside Nimue and Lancelot watching as a thousand years ran backwards.

And then it stopped. Oengus and Merlin stood fixed on one spot, their eyes on men who no longer lived. Merlin knew every man and woman standing before them. Oengus, very quietly said, “Father?”  
A powerful fiery haired man became self aware and turned towards the two men watching him. “Oengus, Manannan mac Lir! Morrigan,” he greeted passionately. 

“Dagda,” Merlin greeted his oldest friend. “Do you know how we can find Donn?” 

“Find him?” Dagda repeated as if it was a joke. “Why do you need that weasel?”

“He has a piece of your cauldron,” Merlin explained, “and we need to find it.”

“He does?” Dagda frowned. “Be right back.”

Nimue stepped up to Morrigan’s side and asked, “What is happening?”

“Unlike Crom Cruach who lives in our realm, the Dagda and Donn live in the world of the dead,” she explained, a wistful look in her eyes. “We cannot go there and they would have trouble coming here on their own.” Of all the women who had shared the Dagda’s bed, she had been his favorite. Very few sidhe did not trace back to him in some form or fashion. 

While they waited for Dagda to return, Oengus who could bring the dead back for short visits made Ogma self-aware and he and Merlin had a nice chat with his oldest brother. Ogma did not appear to be aware of anyone but Oengus and Merlin, although before leaving he did acknowledge Morrigan. “You know, sometimes I envy Indech,” the powerful warrior said before returning to the memory that he had been pulled from.

Morrigan smiled. The Dagda returned with the piece of iron they wanted. “Thank you, my friend,” Merlin said gratefully.

“After all the trouble he caused, he had better give it up,” Dagda replied and fixed bright eyes on Morrigan. “I have missed you,” he said and took her into his arms. 

Watching him turn Morrigan into a heated pool of passion, Nimue was certain that Lancelot was descended from this sidhe king. When Dagda stepped back and returned to memory, Nimue could see a wistful sadness in Morrigan’s eyes. “I do miss him,” she confessed without apology. “Are we ready to go?” 

Merlin suddenly remembered he had forgotten to ask the Dagda about the final piece of iron. “I don’t even know where to begin to look for it,” he told Oengus.

“You old fool!” Morrigan suddenly snapped. “Fand has it!”

“Fand?” Merlin replied in stunned awe. “How? Why?”

“That you have to ask her yourself,” Morrigan answered. “She’s been waiting for you to see her.”

Merlin looked ashamed of himself. “I did not realize this.”

“Well now you do,” Morrigan replied and just as quickly turned into a raven and flew off. The magic fell away leaving the horsemen to return to the Brug without Morrigan. Merlin imagined he knew where Morrigan was going, and he honestly did not know if he was capable of meeting Fand. On that day that he had died the first time, she had warned him not to go. But who listens to women? Certain not the great Manannan mac Lir! Or Naoise, the lover of his daughter Deirdre. Foolish stubborn men. 

Easing his horse back to ride beside Lancelot, he said, “If a woman out of love tells you not to do something. Heed it.”

Lancelot inclined his head and glanced at Nimue who was staring at her father. Merlin was genuinely disturbed by the events they had witnessed. “I will,” the young warrior looked back and assured him.

“Good. Don’t be stupid.” 

They arrived at the Brug after dark and attached the piece to the cauldron. Now there was just one piece left to find, but Merlin was exhausted mentally. All he wanted to do was have a drink and then sleep. And while supper was as rich as it always was, Merlin did not have much of an appetite. Nor did he want to answer any of Nimue’s question with anything more than monosyllabic words.

After supper Nimue and Lancelot retired to their room. Nimue sat on the edge of the bed and watched him pull his outer garments off. They looked impossibly heavy to her. “Come here,” she said and stood up before he removed the pale blue blouse. She grabbed the edge of the blouse and raised it up. Thinking she was going to pull it off him, he lifted his arms, but she stopped. His skin was so fine and pale like ivory that had never touched the sun. She leaned forward and kissed the hollow beneath his breastbone. Lancelot naturally caught his breath. He didn’t have to think about it; his body knew exactly what was coming.

Nimue smiled. “You think you know me that well?” she teased and leaned forward again, this time to take a little nibble out of his right nipple. His muscles flexed hard. He grabbed the shirt and finished pulling it over his head, while Nimue moved back and started undressing. She smiled at the eager look on his face. And agile! He stood there and removed his boots one at a time while standing up. That required some good balance.

When he had both feet on the floor, he watched her finish undressing with that eager puppy look in his eyes. She climbed on the bed and crooked her finger at him. They were going to play a little before going to sleep. After all the stress of the past few weeks, a little play was in order. He crawled on the bed a devilish grin on his face. But she did not lay back. She raised her hand and pressed her finger to his lips. The way he looked at her with those large expressive eyes made her smile. 

“Do you know how much I love?” she asked him and bent over to plant a kiss on the side of his mouth.

“How much?” he asked and closed his eyes. He loved the feel of her lips on his skin.

“More than you can imagine,” she replied and lifted his chin so he could gaze up at her. “I wish there was another way to say it.” Stroking his face, she said, “Sometimes I am amazed that we found each other this way.”

“Not as much as I am,” he said and sat on his left hip. He slipped his hand behind her neck and drew her to him, their lips meeting in a tender kiss that deepened into something more passionate. 

Love came easily in his arms, and she knew she couldn’t have asked for more. Lancelot completed her. “I love you,” she whispered against his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oengus had the ability to make the dead speak.


	22. Return to the Rath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short one. Merlin resists temptation when he meets his wife.  
> Nimue and Lancelot keep their promise to the lesser fey.

Nimue, covered in Lancelot’s robe and hood, answered the door. Lancelot, lying half asleep on the bed, made no effort at modesty. He’d given up on that weeks ago. Surprised to find Morrigan and another woman at the door, she stepped back to let them into the room. Lancelot didn’t move.

“Nimue, this is Fand,” Morrigan introduced the beautiful blonde haired woman. “She was Merlin’s first wife…when he was Manannan mac Lir,”

Nimue smiled at the woman and asked, “How can I help you?”

Fand reached into a large bag and pulled out the final piece of iron. “I had hoped your father would see me, but he doesn’t want to,” Fand replied, her beautiful silver blue eyes fighting back unshed tears. Nimue stared at the iron in amazement. 

Lancelot sat up, rubbed his face and then stood. “Not a word,” he told Morrigan as he stalked past her and out the door, still nude. 

“He’s turning into a sidhe,” Morrigan remarked appreciatively.

“Something,” Nimue said and decided she needed to get dressed before her father arrived. 

To say finding Lancelot au natural at his door demanding he come talk to his wife, surprised Merlin. Fand was here? “Yes, of course,” he said and followed the young warrior back to his room.

The most beautiful woman in the universe smiled at Merlin at took his breath away. “I heard you were looking for this,” she said and held the last piece of iron out to him. “Nemlgan’s birds almost caught me,” she added as he awkwardly took it from her.

Morrigan motioned for Nimue and Lancelot to give them some alone time. Lancelot, his handsome face resolved to being annoyed, grabbed his clothes and boots and walked out of the room with them. “You may never get him dressed again,” the raven witch teased as she and Nimue closed the door behind them. 

Merlin appreciated the gesture but he was also terrified. “How have you been?”

“Lonely,” she answered softly. “And you?”

“Busy.” 

“You always were a busy man,” she said and moved closer until she was almost touching him looking up into his face. “I almost forgot how tall you were.”

“I never forgot how beautiful you were,” he said and caressed her cheek. Without giving it a second thought, he bent down and kissed her. A thousand years slipped away in that precious moment. 

She stepped back and there were tears in her eyes. “Come home Manannan,” she said softly. “Your family misses you.”

For one brief moment Merlin hesitated. “I can’t,” he finally said. “I have to help Nimue and they British fey. If I leave they will perish.” 

“Always trying to save the world,” Fand said regretfully. 

“I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s why I fell in love with you,” she said and turned away before he saw the tear slide down her face. “I do not wish to upset you…”

“Nor I, you,” he said, fixed to the ground like a stone pillar. A part of him wanted to go put his arms around her, hold her tight and promise to never leave again, but knowing they could never go back to what once was this seemed kinder. 

“Perhaps I should go,” she said, although the words seemed ripped from her.

Merlin hesitated. He did not want to hurt her like this, but he had known all along that this would be the outcome. Even though it tore at his heart to watch her leave, he made no effort to stop her. At the back of his mind, he thought maybe one day.

Morrigan laughed as Nimue and Lancelot played at getting him dressed beside the lake. Apparently this was their favorite spot in all the Brug. He was in the water and she wasn’t letting him come out until he promised to put some clothes on. The dobharcu was rolling in the water being a general nuisance.

“Come out!” Nimue shouted at him as he swam towards the center of the small lake with the dobharcu following. He grinned at her and then did a jack knife and dove deep under water. 

Lancelot knew time was getting short for them in Ireland, and he wanted to make some fun memories before returning to the reality of Great Britain. where you will be tossed aside the voice in his head viciously assured him. He frowned when something grabbed his foot and pulled him down deeper into the water. He couldn’t see what had him, and it didn’t last long, the dobharcu swimming past chasing off whatever it was. 

Thinking maybe it was a cramp of some kind, he swam to the surface and sucked in a great lungful of air. Maybe it was time to get out and get dressed. Swimming to the bank, he stepped out and shook his head sending water flying. Nimue squealed and jumped back while Morrigan laughed at his silliness. 

He had his trousers and boots on when Merlin arrived. “Well we have the final piece,” he informed them quietly. “We just need to attach it to the cauldron.” Nimue rubbed her father’s arm but did not ask the question. She could see that he was sad. Merlin smiled at her and said, “We need to let Nemglan know he should go get Guinevere for us.” 

“And we need to go get Madra olc and the others,” Nimue reminded Lancelot. 

“How could we forget them?” Lancelot asked with a grin. “It’s early, if we go now, we could spend the night and then some back tomorrow.”

“Yes, go and hurry back. Take the ponies,” Merlin agreed. “Oengus already knows about your unique subjects.”

Nimue thought it odd but nice to be riding alone with Lancelot on country roads. They had to circle Dublin but still met many travelers on the road in spite of the cold. The weather was clear and the ground pretty solid. Most were hurrying on their way into or out of the city. In a few days they would be doing the same thing, and Nimue actually found herself excited to be returning home with the cauldron.

“Things will be so much better now,” she said with certainty, her eyes taking in the frosty landscape. 

“I’m glad,” Lancelot answered, although he had fears tugging at his thoughts. Once they got away from the main crossroads, he picked up their pace. The sun was still a thin sliver of red when they arrived at the rath. Magically the gates opened and lighted torches appeared before them.

Madra olc and the others ran out to greet them. “I told you we would come back for you,” she laughed as the lesser fey swarmed her, their hands touching her to reassure themselves that she was really here. Lancelot’s two buddies were waiting for him when he stepped off the horse.

Nimue was dragged away while Lancelot and his helpers, now named One and Two, put the horses up. “Tomorrow we leave here,” he told them. “We’ll go to the Brug and then to England.” They stared up at him and made purring sounds. He guessed that meant they were all right with it.

Once they had the animals tended, One and Two showed him to the kitchen where Nimue was supervising their supper. “Nothing alive, I hope,” Lancelot said and sat at the table across from her.

“Oh no, Consort,” Madra olc responded. “My Queen wants some shepherd’s pie.”

“Does she?” Lancelot asked and gave her a curious smile.

“It’s all I could think of,” she answered with a grin. “I think there’s also some fish.”

Turned out Madra olc was a very good cook, and the wine was not bad either. Entertainment came in the form of little songs and ditties accompanied by tin flutes and rapping on the table. And one of the lesser fey, apparently female with a sweet voice, sang a love song that had Nimue grinning bashfully while throwing glances at Lancelot.

When Lancelot and Nimue decided it was time to turn in, they were followed to the door of their room by their new subjects. Madra olc was so happy he was grinning and crying at the same time. Their queen had returned and was taking them with her. Nimue had to say good night to each of her new subjects personally. By the time she got the door closed, Lancelot was already under the covers with mischief on his mind.

She undressed quickly and crawled under the blankets to be wrapped in his arms and held tightly to his body. When he kissed her she melted into the warmth that enveloped her. He drew back a moment and smoothed her hair away from her sweet face. “I love you,” he murmured and kissed her brow. This time when he kissed her, he devoured her lips. Being skin to skin with her drove him half mad with desire. He ached to be inside of her, to have her touch him the way only lovers touched each other. To watch the way her breasts moved when she mounted him and took her pleasure first. To finally surrender to the lust building in his groin. 

Snuggled against his shoulder after long sweet love making, Nimue thought aloud, “If this is my rath, why can’t I bring the fey back here to live?”

“Merlin said the other sidhe might not approve,” Lancelot said sleepily. He always got sleepy after good sex.

“But this is my rath,” she insisted. “I do not see how that threatens anyone.”

“If you want to move here, we’ll move here,” Lancelot said, wanting the conversation to end so he could go to sleep.

“I’ll talk to Oengus about it,” she said and then heard his soft snore. Her valiant knight was asleep. Gazing up at his peaceful face, she smiled and moved off his shoulder. Some time during the night he pressed against her in his sleep and whimpered in the middle of a bad dream. She turned over and thought about waking him but hesitated. What if he woke up violent? He eventually settled down and she was able to go back to sleep. Still, she wished she knew the cause of his bad dreams. They were more common than not.

Morning arrived with a bang, literally. Madra olc holding a tray of food entered the chamber with all his colleagues following. “Queen hungry? Consort hungry?” he asked happily. Today they were going with them and everyone was ready to go.

Lancelot, recovering from the shock of being awakened so abruptly, sighed loudly and fell back on the pillow. “Madra, you can not be doing that,” he warned the lesser fey.

“So sorry, Consort. So sorry,” he apologized before he actually realized why it was dangerous. Lancelot dropped his hand beside the bed and brought up his sword. :Oh, most sorry,” Madra olc apologized again. Setting the food on the table beside Nimue, he stepped back and waited. “Sidhe food,” he said and extended his hand towards the tray.

Nimue smiled and sat up. Expecting something like this, she had donned a night gown that had conveniently appeared in a near by chair. Sampling what looked like meat, she found it tart like wild boar. “Very good,” she said and fed a piece to her Consort.   
Madra olc was beside himself with pleasure. “Horses are ready to go,” he added. “Big horses maybe need cinching, but ponies ready.”

“That’s wonderful,” Nimue praised him, “but Consort and I need to dress, and we’d like to do it in private.” She made a funny face indicating that it was Consort who had the problem with dressing in front of strangers. Once they were out of the room, he practically crawled over her to get to the food before she ate it all.

“Hey, this is mine,” she protested to no effect and started laughing. He ignored her and brought the tray over on to the bed. 

“This is good,” he said and used the wooden spoon to fill his mouth with the porridge. There were two bowls, but he offered her a bite from his spoon. “You must keep your strength up.”

“Oh, must I?” she laughed and accepted the bite. “Mmm, that is good.” Remembering his troubled sleep, she waited until he was finished before saying, “You had a bad dream last night.”

He looked up quickly. “Did I? I don’t remember it,” he said, his eyes betraying him. 

She laid her hand on his thigh, drawing his eyes back to her. “You would tell me if there was something wrong, wouldn’t you?” she asked.

“Yes,” he lied with a faint smile. How could he tell her he dreamed every night that she would toss him aside? She never did anything unkind to him, and her words of love were genuine. He knew all this, but the fear was real.

When they finally emerged from their room, they were greeted by everyone with small totes on their backs ready to go. Anyone who couldn’t ride were place in one of the panniers on the ponies’ backs. The black shapeless thing quivered in Lancelot’s hands as he set it in one of the panniers by itself. Madra olc took his place on the pony mare’s back while One and Two shared the other pony. 

The odd little procession rode out of the rath and Nimue was certain she could feel it shutting down, like something going to sleep. She glanced back as the rath fell into the rubble that mortals knew it by. One day, she thought to herself, one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nimue's bond with her lesser fey makes me smile.


	23. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancelot can not stay with the fey because they fear him. But knowing Nimue loves him is enough.
> 
> Wicklow and Cumber's army has grown. Arthur and Lancelot have their first mission together.
> 
> Merlin convinces Uther that Lancelot would be a good addition to his court.

Oengus studied Nimue’s new subjects without comment. They in turn stared up at him as if waiting for him to pass judgment. It was an interesting staring match. Finally Oengus looked at Nimue and said, “You are a remarkable young woman.” He also acknowledged Lancelot, “And you are as loyal as anyone I have ever met.” Lancelot inclined his head.

Now came the opening Nimue needed. “Oengus, the rath answers to me. Why can’t I bring the fey here and occupy it? Turn it into something like this?” 

“Good question,” Oengus replied with a smile. He had been pruning his roses when Nimue appeared with her subjects. “I will take it up with the high king when he holds court again.” He knew it sounded evasive, but Bodb Derg had become more reclusive over the years. 

Holds court again? The sidhe lived for thousands of years, who knew when they would hold court again? “And when is that?” she asked, not backing down from her mission. 

“I don’t know,” Oengus answered, “but I will let you know with enough time for you to present your cause to him.” 

Nimue needed an answer as soon as possible. “Is there a way I can speak to him personally… now?” 

Oengus sighed and set his pruning sheers down. He was too old to get impatient with a young woman trying to help her people. “The sidhe meet in council,” he explained. “If Bodb Dearg says yes but the others say no, there will be war among the sidhe. Of course, you have my support, but my brother has not called a council in ages.” 

“Why?” 

“The last time we went to war with Rome,” he answered quietly. “My brother is reluctant to lose anymore sidhe to mortal wars.”

“But my fey are not mortals,” she pleaded.

Oengus raised his hand to stop her. “I will contact him as soon as I can,” he promised her, “and I will send Nemglan to tell you when you can appear and make your appeal. That is all I can do right now.” 

Nimue sighed in frustration. “All right, but please tell him any delays could mean the death of my people.” Oengus nodded and then went back to his roses while Nimue took her new charges back to the room she shared with Lancelot. “I hope this doesn’t take forever,” she huffed and sat on the edge of her bed.

“Do you want me to see if I can find this king?” Lancelot asked, prepared to do anything she requested of him.

She smiled. “No. We will give Oengus a chance to do it properly,” she said and patted the bed beside her. He sat down and waited. They had company, and while he didn’t care if they saw him naked, he didn’t want them watching while he made love to her. “We’ve got an entire week to do nothing at all,” she reminded him. 

Lancelot’s eyes brightened, but it wasn’t from the prospect of doing nothing all day in bed with her. “Nemglan is having another hurling match,” he informed her eagerly. 

Her expression dropped. “I’m so happy for you. I bet Mastio can teach me how to weave,” she said with less enthusiasm. Grabbing his face and making him look at her, she said, “Nemglan better not get all your time.” She kissed him and Nemglan quickly became the last thing on his mind. If only they weren’t being watched by all the lesser fey. “Maybe we can imagine your lake and let them play there<” she considered as the room changed to include the lake. “Watch out for the dobharcu,” she called after them.

“Think I can bring him home with us?” he asked hopefully as he laid her back on the mattress.

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” she said and kissed him. “You can have him when we come back.”

He chuckled deep in his body and took a little more time to kiss her. For some reason he thought that this might be the last time he could make love to her in a warm bed with her arms around his neck, and her teeth lingering on his lower lip. Yes! 

Red Spear’s great cargo ship sliced through the winter seas like a knife, it’s sharp bow cutting through white caps and sending foam flying. This would be it’s last trip for the winter. Guinevere did not make this trip, but a sharp eyed fellow named Hagar Longtooth piloted the ship with twenty years of experience behind him. He got them back to England and the harbor of Uther Pendragon in record time where the Red Spear waited on them.

“Uther wants to see you,” she told Merlin while eyeing the strange creatures that followed Nimue off the ship.

Merlin hesitated a moment and then told Nimue, “Take the cauldron to the camp while I see what His Highness needs.”

Uther Pendragon actually showed visible relief when Merlin entered his court. “We were beginning to think you weren’t coming back,” he said and rose from his throne.

“My apologies your majesty. How may I help you?”

“Have you looked in the southern harbors?” Uther asked him nervously. “Ships have delivered more of those damned warrior priests. And two more ships have arrived from Cumber’s land.”

Merlin was caught off guard. He had not expected a build up during the winter. Abbot Wicklow was preparing for a spring campaign, wintering his army over at the expense of Uther’s people. “I will look into it,” he said, needing to get back to Nimue and the fey. 

“Look into it?” Uther countered. “We need a solution!”

“I will give you one, I promise,” Merlin said, his mind racing now. “I need to rejoin the fey, but I will be back tonight.’

“We are most concerned about this, Merlin!”

“As am I, your majesty, as am I.”

Merlin returned to the fey camp to find it in chaos. Leaving his horse to be tended by one of the boys, he entered the mob that was surrounding Nimue and Lancelot. The current leader of the Tusks was growling at Nimue who was growling back at him.

“Please, please, what is happening?” he asked desperately and separated the different groups yelling at his daughter. Only Arthur, a scowl on his face, was not yelling at her. 

“Monk must go,” the Tusk warned threateningly. “He is not welcome here!”

“Then I’m not welcomed either,” Nimue countered angrily. 

Merlin suddenly had an insane idea. “Lancelot is not staying!” Lancelot jerked his head around and stared at Merlin.

“Yes he is!” Nimue shot back angrily. Squirrel joined in at shouting down that idea.. 

“Hear me out,” Merlin said and raised his hand. “Wicklow has brought in more men to begin an attack on us in the spring. Cumber has also brought in extra men,” he said, silencing everyone with his news. “I need Lancelot to check into this for me.”

Broken out of his trance, Lancelot stepped forward and said, “Of course.”

“No!” Nimue snapped again. “I don’t want him out there alone.” 

“He won’t be alone,” Merlin assured her. “I will ride with him this time.”

Lancelot turned to Nimue and took her face between his large hands. There was a softness in his eyes that made her choke. He was leaving. He was leaving her! “Nimue,” he began gently, “my greatest fear was that you would throw me away when we returned.”

She raised her eyes and saw the tears in his. “I love you,” she professed before everyone who could hear her. “You know that! I wouldn’t be here but for you. I need you.”

“I know that now with certainty,” he said gently, his smile as bright as the fire that burned within him. “I need to be out there keeping an eye on them, and no one is better than me at surviving in the wild.”

“That may be true,” Merlin spoke up, “but I am certain Uther will let you bed down at the castle. We could become room mates.” Nimue gave her father a less than kind eye. “As queen of the fey, you would always be welcomed.” Seeing that the cauldron had not been started, he said, “Let’s get some hot food in everyone. Then we can go.” 

Nimue hated the solution. While everyone followed Merlin and the cauldron, she stood inside the warmth of Lancelot’s arms, her forehead resting on his chest. “I have slept beside you for a month, and I’ve become quite fond of it,” she said softly.

“As have I,” he said warmly. “This just means a few days in between. We can survive a day or two at the most without each other.” 

“I don’t have to like it.”

“I would be hurt if you did like it,” he said with a soft laugh. “And I intend to take Merlin up on his offer.”

She grinned and looked up. “Merlin likes to drink.”

He shrugged. “We can do this, my Queen. I knew they would not accept me, but I don’t care. It was always about you.”

When Merlin had the cauldron bubbling over the fire, Arthur stood over it and glanced back at Nimue. She and her green knight were kissing, and for some reason he felt relief. Now he could pursue his new interest without guilt.

Before leaving the camp with Merlin, Lancelot met with Nimue’s new subjects. Down on one knee so he didn’t tower over them, he explained what was happening. One and Two made little rumbling noises, but he patted them on their furry heads and told them they needed to protect their queen. Madra olc was very worried about him leaving.

“What of Imbolc?” he asked fearfully. “Will consort be back for Imbolc?”

“Absolutely,” Lancelot promised him. “The queen gave her word, and I mean to honor it.” 

“Consort be safe,” Madra olc said and pressed his little hand against Lancelot’s face. 

“I will, promise.” Seeing Squirrel standing there staring at him, he stood up and said, “Nimue needs you.”

“I don’t like you leaving.”

“I need to keep track of Wicklow’s army.”

“I can help.”

“Yes you can. You can get messages from Nimue to me,” he said and gathered Goliath’s reins in his hands. “You know the old camp of mine by the long cave?”

“Aye.”

“I will check it once a day. Go there if she needs anything. And I am counting on you to do this.”

Squirrel did not look happy, but it was a job. “Aye, I can do that.”

“Good.” Mounting Goliath he reined him around. Merlin nodded at him and together they rode out of camp towards the south. It would be dark when they got there. 

A half-hour out of the fey camp they heard a horse galloping hard towards them. Pulling up sharply they drew their swords to take on whoever was approaching them. It took only a moment for them to realize it was Arthur. “You could have gotten yourself killed,” Merlin scolded him and put his sword up.

“If you are going to the camp of the Trinity Guard, I want to come too,” Arthur spoke up firmly. He needed to know first hand what was going on and not from someone else’s observations.

Merlin glanced at Lancelot who was putting up his sword. When the younger fey warrior made no comment, he replied, “Very well.”

They left the road the closer they got to the war camp. It was getting dark and colder, but they would use this to their advantage. Less likely to run into a patrol. Finding a thicket to hide the horses in, they proceeded on foot to a ridge where they could better view the camp. 

Arthur and Lancelot crouched low while Merlin peered over their backs. The camp swept around the bay where a dozen ships rocked on the tide . Torches by the thousands lit up the dark. Arthur’s eyes widened in trepidation. “So many men,” he murmured more to himself than to his companions.  
“Just bees in a hive,” Merlin said, more interested in the larger tents where the leaders slept. He was also aware of the tents with sheds built off them. “The armourer,” he told Lancelot and pointed to the one closest to them. “There are at least five that I can see.” 

Lancelot nodded. There was no way they could destroy the equipment, but it took a skilled craftsman to use them. “Let’s put a little fear of god into them,” he said and rose to his feet.

Arthur stood beside him looking puzzled. “What do you plan on doing?” 

“Follow and see but stay quiet,” Lancelot said. “Merlin, keep watch. If someone comes whistle.”

“Like a nightingale,” the druid replied as the two young men slipped into the war camp. They moved quickly, staying in the shadows, stopping occasionally to listen for footsteps, until they came to the tent of the armourer. As silent as death, they moved the tent flap and entered the shelter. The powerful smith and his assistant sound asleep. Lancelot removes two garrotes from his belt and handed one to Arthur. He motioned for Arthur to take the apprentice, while he took the smith. The garrotes ensured no cry was made to alert the camp.

To leave them puzzled, Lancelot carried the apprentice with them and dumped his body in the woods where it would never be found. Once they were mounted and away, he explained, “They’ll think his companion did it and fled.”

Arthur liked that. “Give us some more time to sabotage them,” he said. He could see this becoming a routine for them.

“Something like that,” Lancelot agreed.

At the main road, they stopped to part company. Arthur was riding back to the fey camp while Merlin and Lancelot rode to the castle. “Anything you want me to tell Nimue?” Arthur asked Lancelot, who was surprised by the question.

He hesitated before saying, “Tell her, I love her.”

“Easy enough,” Arthur answered. “And will you do me a kindness?”

“That?”

“Tell Guinevere that I am cold. She will understand.”

Lancelot nodded. Arthur reined around and rode back down the road away from them. “I’m cold too,” Merlin said to the young warrior staring after the mortal. Within the hour they were back at Uther’s castle. 

Needless to say there was some concern with the Weeping Monk following Merlin into the king’s throne room. “Merlin, tell me you have not brought him here to harm us?” 

Merlin bowed his head and indicated that Lancelot needed to do the same. “Not at all, your highness. We have just come from the war camp and can report they are short one armourer.”

“Really?” Uther replied with interest.

“My young friend is most proficient at silencing his enemies. Now there are two less paladines to worry about.”

Uther stared at Lancelot. “You are Carden’s Weeping Monk?’

“That was my name, your highness. My birth name is Lancelot. ” 

Uther smiled and looked at Merlin. “And you trust him to not harm us?”

“With my life, your highness.”

“It is not your life, Merlin, I worry about.”

“Indeed, your highness. Lancelot serves the fey queen, but the fey are afraid of him. Since it is his greatest desire to prove to them that he is a changed man, he offers his services to you. After all helping the fey against a common enemy helps King Uther.” As an added enticement, he said, “Lancelot is the greatest warrior in the land. Would it not be beneficial to have him at your side?”

Uther studied the silent fey warrior. Carden’s fey killer was now helping them, and by virtue of that, the king. After a moment, he said, “Indeed it would. Very well, Merlin, he may stay.”

Merlin had not realized that he had been holding his breath until then. Relieved that Lancelot was not going to be turned out, Merlin smiled and turned to the young warrior. “We will share my quarters.”

“Wise decision,” Uther agreed. “I can keep my fey together.” 

Later that night Lancelot was able to tell the Viking warrior woman that Arthur was cold. Her expression clearly indicated she knew what he was speaking of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Part II in the story.


	24. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in England, Lancelot and Arthur become allies. 
> 
> Nimue is missing her Knight.

More fey were coming into the camp, risking their lives to get to safety. Sometimes they were successful; sometimes they weren’t. The small group of fauns, driven by hunger and desperation, knew the Trinity Guard and Red Paladins roamed the edges of Uther Pendragon’s kingdom looking for fey to pick off, but it was all or nothing. Hiding during the day, they moved at night, but the winds of winter howled harder the night before and it was move or die. 

The two male fauns were armed with short swords and kept the females and children in front of them moving towards the coast where the fey queen protected her people. They would have already been there but for the children and one of the females was pregnant and slow moving. 

Moving as quickly as they could, keeping the group together, they came to an open stretch of woodland and moor and stopped, crouching in the brush. Alert eyes searched for any sign of danger and saw none. Unable to run, they opted to stay in the tall brush.

The Red Paladins appeared out of nowhere, mounted on horses and carrying torches and swords. Panic stricken the faun females and their young broke and ran as fast as they could while the two males tried to give them a chance to escape by standing their ground. The Paladins circled them with sadist grins on their faces. 

The male fauns were back to back and determined to die fighting when the first arrow knocked a Paladin off his horse. This threw the Paladins into a panic and allowed the male fauns to race after their females. Catching up to them, they snatched up the smallest ones and didn’t stop running until they reached the fey camp. 

Nimue listened to them tell about their harrowing adventure and the unseen archer who had attacked the Paladins. She didn’t need to say anything, everyone assembled knew who the archer was. Making sure the fauns were fed and that a healer checked on the pregnant female, Nimue walked to the edge of the camp and stared out across the forest, seeing Lancelot in her mind’s eye. A week without him felt like ages. Getting her horse saddled and donning warm clothes and a fur lined winter cape and hood she slipped on lambskin gloves and mounted her horse to go find him.

Deciding the best place to start was where the fauns ran into the Paladins. It wasn’t hard to find them dead on the road. They lay like fallen sacks on the ground. Judging from the angle of the arrows, he was…..or should be….over there. But something wasn’t right. She could see Goliath standing riderless. She could see the red cloaks of two dead Paladins, and she could see Lancelot sitting with his back to a stone. There was pain in his eyes when he saw her. He had been hurt.

Jumping off her horse, she ran to him. “You’re hurt!” she exclaimed and dropped on her knees beside him. A piece of a broken arrow was lodge in his shoulder.

“It’s nothing,” he assured her. “I was just resting.”

She moved as much of his outer clothes away as she could to get a better look at his injury. “You need a healer,” she said. “I have one in my camp.”

“Uther has several and they aren’t afraid of me,” he said wearily, the pain dragging him down. 

“It’s time they get over it ,” she said and helped him up. He mounted Goliath without too much help, but she didn’t trust him to not fall off. He might be one of the toughest fey alive, but he could still grow weak and pass out. Staying beside him, she kept a close eye on his face. He was ashen pale, his eyes seemingly more filled with darkness with only a sliver of color around his pupil. Nimue was certain if she had not come along he would have sat there until he died.

Arthur was overseeing a seawater drainage detail when he spied Nimue returning with Lancelot. He could see the fey warrior was injured rather badly. Pym and Squirrel along with her lesser fey ran to intercept them. He ran to help them. Fortunately there were stronger fey to carry the wounded warrior into the healer’s hut.

Weak from blood loss but conscious, Lancelot reached for Nimue with his hand. She took and held on until the healer told her they needed to remove his upper garments, and she was not helping. He made a deep throat whimpering sound when they had to sit him up to remove the heavy outer tunics and then the light blouse.

Someone laid a sheep skin over his lower body to keep him warm. The healer cleaned the wound with a wine soaked rag and took a good look at it. While they had him sitting up, she felt his back. “It will be better if we just push it through,” she said. “Cutting it out would be more painful and do more damage to the muscle.”

Nimue agreed. The healer found one of her long bronze tools and wiped it down with the wine. Nimue sat beside Lancelot on his good side and reached for his good hand. If the pain got bad, he could squeeze it. Arthur imagined Lancelot could break it. “Maybe you better let me,” he offered. “He might break yours.” Nimue hesitated and then moved but stayed within Lancelot’s eyesight. Everything he felt was in his eyes, and they were on her. The healer placed a heavy piece of leather in Lancelot’s mouth for him to bite on. 

Arthur had to give it to him. Lancelot was one tough son of a bitch. The moment the healer began the tortuous process of pushing the arrow through his chest and shoulder, Lancelot clenched his teeth and breathed hard but made no sound. His hand clenched in Arthur’s hand but not bad enough to break it. Lancelot kept his eyes on Nimue who watched everything with a pained expression on her face. The moment the healer could grab the arrowhead and pull it the rest of the way out, Lancelot slumped on Arthur’s shoulder. He was still conscious but the pain was not as bad now. 

The healer applied moss to the front and back of the wound to stop the bleeding. A clean rag was wrapped around his shoulder to hold it in place. Arthur then eased him back on the bed. Nimue took his place. She drew the sheepskin up higher to get him warm. The healer offered him a drink that would ease the pain and Nimue and Arthur helped him sit up enough to drink it. Sleep slowly wrapped itself around him.

Nimue refused to leave him. Even asleep he was more precious to her than everyone else in the camp. Squirrel, Pym, One and Two sat with her and brought food. Arthur periodically checked on them. He even sent someone to castle to let Merlin know that Lancelot was wounded at their camp but that he was going to be all right. When he had rested awhile, a litter was made and he was carried to Nimue’s shelter where a bed had been made for him. That night she slept beside him, keeping him warm with her body pressed against his. All she wanted to do was plant soft kisses on his good shoulder while he passed in and out of sleep.

By morning all the lesser fey were curled up around them. There was no getting away from them. Madra olc and two others went to bring them back some food. Squirrel and Pym followed them.

“How are you feeling?” Pym asked and sat beside him. 

“Better,” Lancelot replied and sat up with her and Nimue’s help. He was hungry and the food smelled good. “Is this from the cauldron?”

“Always cooking,” Pym answered. She handed him a wooden spoon. “Might need this.” 

Lancelot ate because he was hungry, and he wanted more because he was really hungry. Madra olc ran to get more food. Nimue checked Lancelot’s dressing and found dry blood on it, a good thing for him. Switching to Old Irish, he said while she hovered over him and made sure the dressing was secure, “I miss making love to you.” She glanced down at him and grinned. “I miss using my tongue…” She placed her hand over his mouth and got it licked.

“You are definitely feeling better,” she said and moved back to his good side.

Merlin entered the hut and smiled. He had been worried about the young warrior, but he could see Lancelot was in good hands. Madra olc a bowl of food in hand scooted around him and handed it to Lancelot. “You may not want to leave this,” Merlin teased the younger man. 

“I could get used to it,” Lancelot agreed with a smile, but he knew he would get restless and the Paladins would want revenge when they found their dead brothers. “I need to go move the bodies.”

“Arthur is already taking care of that,” Merlin assured him. “He and some men rode out this morning to move the bodies in case the Paladins came looking.” 

Lancelot ate in silence for a moment and then looked up at Merlin and said, “I hope he brings back their swords. A couple of them looked new.”  
“Oh?”

“We didn’t do much damage to them,” Lancelot replied and took another bite of food his thoughts running towards another plan. “I need to actually destroy those forges.” 

“That sounds too risky for you to tackle alone,” Merlin countered. Lancelot gazed up at him. “Me? You want me to take out the forges? Uther is already terrified that we will incite them to attack early,” the druid explained.

Lancelot scooped the last of the food out of the bowl and left the spoon in his mouth to savor the taste a bit longer on his tongue. Nimue reached over and took it from him. “Now you’re playing with it,” she said with a smile. “How do you want to do this?” she asked him.

“We need to disable those forges,” Lancelot replied. “I thought maybe powerful magic could do it.”

“Unfortunately the kind of magic you would need exceeds my abilities,” Merlin answered, although a long forgotten memory started forming in his brain. “If we can’t destroy them with magic, maybe we can destroy them with muscle.”

“Muscle we have.”

“Yes,” Merlin agreed. “When the Fomorians attacked Ireland, they came by sea. We hit them from the sea and land in a late night raid. It was good for one raid only, but we damaged them badly. Are you up for a late night raid?”

“Certainly, but we will need men.”

“I’m pretty sure I know at least one source who will help us.”

“Red Spear?” Lancelot asked, remembering her as a determined woman with a man’s passion.

“She hates Cumber,” Merlin acknowledged. As Viking women went, she was very beautiful. Even with the nose-jewelry .

Nimue interrupted their scheming. “You need another day of rest,” she told Lancelot. If he ran off now, he would open his wound and start bleeding again/

“And I need to let Uther and Guinevere know what we want to do,” Merlin said and readied to leave.

Pym who had been silent this whole time nodded at him and said, “Tell the captain hello for me.”

“She has asked about you,” Merlin replied with a smile. Turning to Lancelot, he said, “We need to talk more later.” Parting the curtain, he strode out of the hut.

Lancelot snatched the wooden spoon from Nimue and put it back in his mouth. He defied her to take it from him. “You can keep it,” she said and stood up. “Just don’t stab yourself when you lay back down.”

With Pym, Squirrel and the lesser fey grinning at them, Lancelot took the spoon out of his mouth to say, “Spoons and I are old friends.” 

“Really?” she countered expectantly.

“Yes. I learned to use a spoon before I learned to use a sword.” 

“Lucky us,” she teased and slipped out of the hut. Pym ran after her.

Arthur and the three fey with him returned to camp by midday with the horses and weapons of the Red Paladins killed by Lancelot. The horses were a welcomed sight and the swords were gathered and placed with the community weapons. Seeing Nimue bundled up and staring out to sea, he walked over to see about her. “Is he better?” he asked curiously.

“Yes,” she answered and smiled at Arthur. “He and Merlin are plotting a raid on the war camp, and that has me a little worried.”

“Really? A raid?” Arthur asked curiously. He liked the idea of attacking them any way possible.

“Yes. They just talked about it this morning. Merlin is afraid to not let Uther know what is going on, and Lancelot still needs to let his shoulder heal.”

“Would it be all right if I spoke to him?”

“If he’s awake, certainly.”

Arthur smiled, finding her protectiveness of one of the deadliest creatures alive, charming. Even Guinevere said being around Lancelot was like being around a dangerous wolf unsure if he was going to bite or not. Nimue Led with him back to her hut and found him and Squirrel playing a board game that did not look like chess. 

“Who’s winning?” Arthur asked and took a seat beside Squirrel.

“I am,” the boy answered readily, not seeing the knowing smile that Lancelot gave Arthur. 

“Do you mind if I interrupt your game? I need to speak with Lancelot.”

“And I suppose you want me to leave?”

“I would feel better if this were private.” 

Squirrel looked at One and Two and said, “Come on. Let’s see if the horses need watering.”

Nimue drew up a stool and sat down. She gave Lancelot a quick kiss before nodding at Arthur. “How are you feeling?” Arthur asked him.

“Better. Is something wrong?”

“This raid you are planning. What does it entail?”

“Merlin is still working it out, but he wants to attack the war camp on two fronts.”

“So you are working on a plan?”

“It’s in the very early stages. Merlin returned to Uther this morning to speak with him about it.” He rested his elbow against Nimue’s knees. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ride back to the castle and see how things are progressing.” 

“I’ll get the horses ready,” Arthur said and stood up. He ducked out of the hut and trotted to get the horses ready. 

Nimue was not pleased with this. “You are still healing,” she said with a touch of anger in her voice.

“Better than I was,” Lancelot replied and glanced up at her. 

“You still need your rest,” she countered, refusing to look at him. “Besides, we’ve not been together in over a week. I had hoped we could spend at least one night together alone.”

He looked up at her and smiled. “I will be back tonight, promise.”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” she said and tried to not look at his grinning face.

“I mean it,” he said and rose on his knees to take her lovely face in his free hand. When she finally met his affectionate gaze, he kissed her. She in turn cupped his face and fed on his love. When he released her, they were both a little breathless. “I better dress,” he said and stood up. Some of the fey had washed his outer garments and blue blouse. Nimue stood and helped him dress. When she had him covered, she fastened his belt around his waist. The two swords followed.

“How are you going to do anything with your shoulder still injured?” she asked skeptically. 

“I will avoid trouble if I can,” he promised her.

“If you are riding to Uther’s castle, there ought to be no trouble.”

“Let us hope that is the case,” he said. 

She looked up at him. “I think you enjoy war too much.”

“Not too much,” he answered and gave her another swift kiss. She followed him out of the hut. Arthur had the horses tied and was cinching his new bay warhorse, courtesy of the Paladins. 

“Isn’t he a beauty?” he asked proudly. He had always wanted a regal horse, and now he had one.

“Very nice,” Nimue replied with less enthusiasm. Lancelot saddled and cinched his horse. “I’ll be waiting up for you,” she said when he finally mounted the horse. He knew better than to say anything foolish. Even though it was painful, he leaned over and kissed her one last time. Gathering the reins, he righted himself without grimacing. 

Lancelot and Arthur rode off at a gallop. One and Two joined Nimue and looked up at her with curious eyes. “He’ll be back,” she assured them. “He promised.” She turned away to look for Pym. One and Two walked to the end of the road and sat down. They had nothing else to do. 

Merlin was not entirely surprised to see the two young warriors arriving at the castle. Guinevere seemed particularly pleased to see Arthur, and he her. Now came the real planning. The goal was to destroy the forges, and the best way to do it was drag everything that could be dragged into the bay. Guinevere’s people would come in from the sea while the fey and Uther’s men came in by land. It would not be a large attack force but a covert raid under the dark of the new moon. Maybe twenty men tops from the landside, more from the sea. 

“Then we do this tomorrow night?” Guinevere asked curiously. 

“Is that enough time?” Arthur asked her.

“We could do it now,” if you want she retorted confidently.

“Tomorrow night will be the darkest night of the week,” Merlin said. “And that will be no problem?”

Guinevere smiled confidently. “We sail by the stars, and when there are no stars by our noses.” 

“That explains a lot,” Uther replied, his eyes on the hand drawn map on the table. “Capt. Cully and his men will join you. What do you need from me?”

“Chains?” Merlin asked. “Or stout rope.”

One and Two were still sitting in the road when they spotted the lone horseman riding towards them. It was dark and he was clothed in darkness, but they recognized him right away. Standing up, chattering loudly to each other, they ran back to Nimue to tell her Lancelot had returned. Just like he promised.

Nimue ran out of the hut and straight into his arms. One of the fey boys took Goliath and promised to give him a good feed of hay. Breaking the kiss long enough to drag him into the hut, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a passionate kiss. Pausing long enough to get out of their clothes, they fell on her bed Nimue entwining her legs with his. She was mindful of his shoulder but passion quickly took hold of them both. Fueled by desire, burning to reconnect with her, he tolled over on his back and locked his good hand behind her neck and brought her down to his lips. It was less kissing and more feeding on each other passions.

When she sat up and mounted him, he followed her and took one pale coral nipple into his mouth and greedily sucked on it. He knew he was driving her crazy….he could feel it…he could smell it. He repeated the seductive torture on the other nipple until she was ready to mount him, to use him to for her own pleasure. Laying her hands flat on his body, she ground against him. Her hair fell forward and hid most of her face, but he loved her long beautiful hair. When she leaned forward and brushed his skin with her hair, it was as soft as silk but it awoke every nerve in his body. 

Nimue came apart with a soft cry. He watched her with hungry burning eyes, but he waited for her for get her fill of him before thinking of himself.. When she collapsed on his body, he carefully moved to get behind her. Nimue rose on her hands and knees and gasped when he entered her. He filled her completely, so hard, hitting every wild nerve inside of her. He stroked her once on the outside and the hot liquid heat had her crying again. She couldn’t see his face when the fire inside of him spilled into her body, but she imagined the pure male beauty that was her lover, her Lancelot. 

When it was over, and he was as sated as she, he fell on his side and pulled her into his arms. She drew a blanket of animals skins and fur over them and snuggled against his good shoulder. “I love you,” she whispered and raised her head to look at his face. A frown creased her brow; her great warrior was asleep. How did he do that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Arthur and Guinevere are the fancy couple.


	25. Night Raid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Lancelot lead a night raid on the Red Paladin war camp.

Lancelot stared across the steaming water towards the east. He was dressed and ready to leave but taking a moment to watch the sliver of red light rise. The men going with him were saddled and waiting. Nimue, wrapped in her furs, stopped beside him and said, “Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

He smiled and pulled her into his arms. “I’ll be as careful as I need to be.”

“Twisted answer,” she replied and laid her head against his chest. He smoothed her hair back and lifted her chin for a final kiss. Nimue didn’t want to let him go, but people were counting on him. Stepping back she watched him mount and rein Goliath around. He was leaving

Lancelot and the dozen fey with him galloped across country to the castle of Uther Pendragon, where Red Spear’s raiding ships rocked in a quiet cove near the castle. Here the plans for the attack on the war camp were finalized. 

“We would like to observe this,” Uther spoke up at this last meeting.

Merlin, leaning over the table with the maps on it, looked up and said, “It will be dangerous, my liege.”

“ We must show the people that we are willing to fight for them,” Uther explained readily. 

While that was a noble idea, it was also a dangerous one. There was only one safe solution. “Then you will stay with me, your highness.” Glancing back at Lancelot, he said, “We’ll use the curragh.” 

“Pity it’s not large enough to carry all of us ,” Lancelot remarked and drew a smile out of Merlin.

“Indeed, indeed,” Merlin agreed and rolled the maps up and slipped them inside his tunic to keep them safe. “We’ll sail out at dusk.”

“We’ll ride out on the wane,” Lancelot said and glanced at Arthur.

“That will give us a couple of hours to make sure we have everything ready,” Arthur replied.

Lancelot didn’t need to make certain about anything. He retired to Merlin’s quarters, found the bunk he slept on when he was there, and laid down to catch some sleep. He hated sleeping alone, but as that was becoming his routine again, he didn’t dwell on it anymore than he had to. Taking off the heavy outer garments, he stretched out on the bunk, folded his sore arm over his abdomen and his good arm behind his head. Closing his eyes, he dozed off.

The dream seemed all too real. Unable to move, he saw the ‘thing’ climb through the window and move towards him. He tried to yell, but his voice was frozen. The thing crawled across the floor on its many legs and raised one of them to tapped his boot. He could see the thing’s face it’s monstrous eyes seeing everything at once. He fought against the paralysis as it climbed on top of him and slowly crawled up his body, one of its long thin legs tapping on his body as it crept higher.

With his heart hammering wilding in his chest, he watched it approach his face. Fighting against the confines, he tried to yell but only a groan rattled in his throat. The thing was within striking distance when something happened, a flash of light scattered the thing into a million sparkling pieces.

A hand shook him awake. Starting, he sat up and reached for his sword, but the face he saw was Merlin’s. “What was that?” Lancelot asked anxiously and looked around.

“It wasn’t real,” Merlin explained, puzzled by what had attacked the younger warrior.

Lancelot relaxed and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “What time is it?”

“Time to leave. You’ve been asleep for hours.”

“It only feels like minutes,” Lancelot said and reached for his outer garments. He pulled them over his head and then fastened his belt. 

Merlin stared at him, a frown on his face. He had seen something in shadow but hadn’t been able to see it clearly. “What did you see?”

“A very big spider,” Lancelot replied. “Does that make any sense to you?”

Merlin turned away because it did make sense to him. An old friend was making her appearance known to him. “I will study it,” he said and turned back. “Ready ?”

“Yes.”

They walked down to the stable together where everyone else was ready to ride out. Someone had saddled Goliath. 

“Oversleep?” Arthur asked.

“Something like that,” Lancelot replied and mounted his horse. The sun was thirty degrees above the horizon when they rode out. 

Merlin waited until it was almost dark before unfolding the curragh. Uther looked skeptical, but he and his retainer climbed in with Merlin. To his amazement at a single word from Merlin, the leather boat scooted across the water. The warriors with Red Spear in four attack boats surrounded them, their dipping oars churning up water. Merlin could not help but feel a surge of passion. Even Uther had a look of excitement on his face. 

Darkness enclosed around them but the Norsemen, eyes on the stars knew where they were going. The steady drill of oar into water was covered over by the waves rising on to the shores. On landside, the horsemen crested a ridge and gazed down at the war camp. They were divided into teams of four with Lancelot and the men with him taking the forge farthest from them. 

The moment Lancelot could see the attack boats pull silently into the harbor, they separated. Running quickly along the ridge, staying on the low side, they found their target among the sleeping men. On a cold dark night even with torches, the men were in their tents huddled around their heating pots. 

The attack boat did not come all the way on shore but rested in shallow water. The three men with Lancelot waded into the water to get the great rope while Lancelot kept watch. If any man appeared from a tent, he would silence them forever. A cold wind rattled the flaps coming off the bay. Some of Red Spear’s men climbed out of the boat to help secure the ropes to the anvil and to grab whatever weapons and swords were around.

Tensed like some great cat, Lancelot watched them finish securing the anvil and weapons. Any other useful piece of equipment was collected and set in the boat. The Norsemen climbed back in their boat and laid against the oars. With a groan and crash the anvil gave way to the muscle of men. Just past the beach, Merlin and Uther watched the boats of Red Spear drag the anvils into the water. 

“Now we do our part,” Merlin said and waited for all the horsemen to leave the beach.

Lancelot sent the fey with him running on ahead. He turned just as a head poked out of a tent and spied him. “The Weeping Monk!” the man shouted in terror. The Red Paladins wanted no part of him, but the Trinity Guard camped among them had to respond. 

Merlin watched in horror as Lancelot found himself facing a dozen men, Red Paladin and Trinity Guard. The fey warrior reacted ruthlessly to being discovered, his double blades slicing through mortal flesh. The mortal took torches and waved them at him while trying to drive him into a killer. Merlin could not let him fall without help. Calling down the lightning Merlin set two Church ships on fire. The men in the other tents ran out of them and stared at the two burning ships in surprise. This helped all the men on horseback to escape, all but two. Arthur and a faun turned and rode back for Lancelot

Merlin had to get the king out of there but he could not look away. Staring at the fey warrior’s battle, he was surprised when two horsemen appeared. They charged into the middle of the combatants, Arthur offering a hand to Lancelot. Without hesitation Lancelot grabbed Arthur’s hand and swung on the back of the new horse. 

It may not have been a clean escape, but it was an escape. “Take us back to the castle,” Merlin said, content that the anvils were at the bottom of the bay and the forges were ruined.   
Once they caught up with the other men, Lancelot mounted his own horse. Trusting his instincts, he led them quickly back to the castle where grooms were waiting on the horses and hot food and beverages for the men. Lancelot accepted the hot-spiced wine, but first he had something he needed to do.

Finding Arthur engaged in friendly chatter with Red Spear, he stopped and said, “Thank-you.”

“You are welcomed,” Arthur answered with a smile. 

Lancelot did not want to interrupt them and inclined his head before backing away. He was seriously missing Nimue. Turning he went to find Merlin. At least being with Merlin took some the edge off his melancholy. He was in luck, the Druid was looking for him.

“How are you?” Merlin asked curiously. He was genuinely concerned about Lancelot. 

“I’m all right, but I wish Nimue were here.”

Merlin smiled. “You’re in luck. She’s upstairs.”

Lancelot swallowed the last of his mulled wine and ran into the castle, almost running over Uther. Backing up and showing reverence to the king, he broke into a run to find Nimue. He burst into the room to find her staring out the window at the roaring sea. She turned when he entered the room and straight into her arms. How he needed her with him. Her lips on his, her arms around his neck.

“I had a feeling,” she said and drew back from his lips to explain why she was there.

“I’m well now that you are here,” he said and bent to kiss her again. His outer clothes were damp and cold but he was warm beneath them. Fumbling to get undressed, Nimue laughing at his enthusiasm, Lancelot hated everything he wore at that moment. Just getting the boots off was an agony of awkwardness. 

His bunk was long and narrow, but he didn’t care. She was here and he needed to feel her love. Back to the wall, he got them both positioned with blankets over them. She did nothing but grin at his zeal. “It’s only been a day,” she finally said.

“One day too long,” he replied and returned to her lips. He caressed her body and lowered his head to savor her full breasts. She mewed and held his head in her arms. And then he moved lower, the blankets hiding him, but then she almost screamed when his tongue sliced her open. Settling her legs over his shoulder, he kissed her inner thigh before going back to work on her sensitive regions. She bit her knuckles to keep from yelling his name. 

When he finally rose over her on all fours, she turned in such a way that he could slide down her throat, her nose tickling his pubic hair. She cupped him with her left hand and stroked his belly with the other. If she could have seen his face, at the awe and passion that burned in his eyes, she would have been amazed at her power over him. And when he could hold back no longer and filled her throat with his life force, she swallowed it without gagging. She held him in her mouth until he grew soft. 

Snuggling afterwards, warm in each other’s arms, he kissed the top of her head and asked, “What did you sense?”

“I thought you were in danger,” she replied comfortably against him. Not wanting to spoil the mood, she kissed his chin and said, “ Thankfully, I was mistaken.” 

Abbot Wicklow, staring at the two smoldering ships, aware of the destroyed foundries, sighed heavily and said to his secretary, “Read that back to me.”

“Your Holiness, it is now apparent to your representative, Abbot Wicklow, that the Weeping Monk has returned and is leading raids on our camp. He is not an ordinary fey, and we respectfully request the presence of Barron von Oldstein, the fey killer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've never experienced sleep paralysis, then you are fortunate. It is scary, and you do believe something is in the room with you. I've had it happen to me twice.


	26. Bodb Derg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nimue gets her meeting.

Lancelot awoke first. Nimue lay between him and the wall. Someone was in the room with them. Dropping his hand, he heard a familiar voice say, “You won’t need that.”  
Nemglan!

Lancelot sat up quickly and stared at the naked bird sidhe sitting on the edge of Merlin’s worktable. “You’re here,” he stated the obvious. Shaking Nimue awake, he said, “Nemglan’s here.”

Nimue wiped her eyes and sat up. “You have a meeting time?”

“In three days. I am to escort you to it.” 

“Does Merlin know?” Nimue asked. 

“Came here first. Haven’t wandered around the castle.”

“Good thing,” Lancelot said and reached for his clothes. “Did you bring anything to wear?”

“Where would I put it?” Nemglan replied and opened his hands

“How does Morrigan do it?” Nimue asked suspiciously and pulled her blouse over her head. She was no longer surprised by male nudity, but this was not the Brug.

“She turns her feathers into clothes,” he answered. “I just find it an inconvenience.”

Lancelot threw his outer cape at the sidhe. “Humans are funny about naked skin.”

Nemglan stood up and slipped the heavy outer garment over his head. “Humans are just funny,” he remarked. “Where are we going?”

“To find Merlin.”

Merlin was in the King’s kitchen helping himself to tasty morsels when Nimue and her men….her men! walked in. “Nemglan?”

“Merlin,” Nemglan replied and helped himself to a tasty morsel on Merlin’s plate. “In three days you are to meet with Bodb Derg and tell him why we need to come rescue your people.”

“That isn’t much time,” Merlin relied anxiously. 

“Not if you travel by manmade ships.” Smiling at the women staring at him in awe, he nodded and turned back to Merlin. “This time you will need to use a little magic.”

Merlin considered it. “But I can not take the three of us,” he explained.   
“You and Nimue then, but the queen must be there. Father will also be present as your benefactor.”

Merlin thought a moment. “I need to let Uther know I will be gone for a few days.”

The appearance of the bird sidhe warrior in Uther’s court stunned everyone, especially Arthur who had not known these people existed. Yes, he knew there were fey in Ireland, but this man was more powerful than any fey he knew of. And he was certain the cloak Nemglan was wearing belonged to Lancelot 

Merlin explained everything in detail to a silent Uther, but Arthur immediately saw the fatal flaw in Merlin’s plan. “You leave everyone behind to die,” he spoke up sharply. “We can’t survive with you taking a big portion of the army away.” 

Merlin looked from Arthur to Uther and back to Nimue. This was not something she had considered. Lancelot unfolded his arms from his chest and said, “I will not leave until this is over and you are safe, but the fey children must be moved before the fighting starts.”

Uther tapping his mouth with a long forefinger in thought finally sat up straight and said, “The fey should leave, but Arthur is right. We would not survive the loss of the fey warriors. And all of us would fall if Warwick and Cumber succeed.” 

Nimue did not argue that. “Then let me see this fey high king and make arrangements to move my weakest members first.” 

Uther stood up, his eyes on Lancelot. This was someone he could not afford to lose. “You swear to fight with us when the time comes if we permit this?” Uther didn’t care about the victims, but he needed the sword of Lancelot or they would all be victims.

“My word is my honor,” Lancelot assured him. 

“We accept it then.” Turning to Merlin, he said, “Very well, see this fey king, but we would also ask that you propose an alliance with us.”

Merlin was amazed at the clarity of Uther’s thoughts. “I certainly will, your highness.”

“When will you be leaving?” Uther asked.

Merlin turned to Nemglan who replied, “As soon as they are ready.” 

Uther nodded and turned away from them. The discussion was over.

Nimue had a million things she wanted to tell Lancelot and Arthur, including things to tell Kaze and Pym. Foremost she wanted Lancelot to know how much she loved him, but she and Merlin needed to leave now.   
Climbing to the top of the battlement, Merlin embraced her and took Fragarach in hand, waving the great sword over his head. Calling down the powers of nature, he vanished in an explosion of light. Nemglan, handing Lancelot back his cape, leaped into space and changed immediately into a large white swan. The mortals who witnessed the transformation silently prayed Merlin would be able to get men like him to help them.

Bodb Derg, the Red Crow, high king of the sidhe was old enough to remember Murias, one of the four magical cities of the Tuathe de Danann. He was the Dagda’s oldest surviving son but looked no more than thirty. His brothers Oengus and Finnvarr walked with him in a winter garden of his own creation. 

“ There will be resistance to this motion,” dark haired Finnvarr told his fairer brothers.

“I will hear her out,” Bodb Derg replied and stopped to pick a perfect ice flower from its stalk. The blood red robes that hung from his broad shoulders were a stark contrast to the pure white of his garden. And the multi-jeweled rings on his fingers glowed with inner fires. “And the council will decide,” he said and smiled at the perfect creation. 

Lancelot leaned against the battlement with the sea behind him and the castle before him. He was the image of indifference to the men walking below, but he felt a disconnect that unsettled him. It was as if she were too far from him, that he wouldn’t be able to reach her in time if something happened. 

Arthur, on the level just below him, looked up and yelled, “We need to ride. Some fey have been spotted in the woods.”

Lancelot pulled himself out of his reverie and ran for the steps. Fey in the woods meant one thing, a group was on the move trying to reach safety. Grooms were saddling their horses when they entered the stable. Most of the fey warriors who had gone on the raid with them had returned to the camp, but a faun named Ollo had attached himself to Arthur and was riding with them.

Having something to do cleared Lancelot’s mind. They needed to find the fey before the Paladin patrols found them.

Nimue and Merlin followed Nemglan into the great mead hall of Bodb Derg, high king of the Tuathe de Danann. The sith of the great king was just as beautiful as the Brug, but Nimue noticed quickly a lack of greenery. Oengus surrounded himself with green living things, but the halls of Bodb Derg were the beauty of cut crystals. 

Entering the great hall beside her father, Nimue struggled to control her fear. So many faces she did not know or recognized. But her friends were also here, Oengus, Morrigan and her sister Nemain who looked disappointed, and Oengus’ consorts Cair and Edain. And Nemglan his smiling face offering reassurance would stay with them.

Bodb Derg, seated on a throne of gold and cut gems, stood up and walked down the steps to embrace Merlin. “Too long you have been away, my friend.”

“Too long, indeed,” Merlin agreed. “May I present Nimue, Queen of the English fey.”  
Nimue wasn’t sure about the protocol. Bodb Derg was as tall as her father and looking up at him filled her with awe. “Your majesty,” she answered. 

“Your majesty,” he countered and inclined his head. He went back to his throne and sat down. “Please tell us why you want to move your people to Ireland.”

“The simple answer is, we are being exterminated in England, and I can protect them at Rath Goll, which now answers to me.” 

A very powerful looking dark haired male sidhe stepped forward and said, “We signed a treaty with humans to stay hidden away from them. Why not do the same in England?” 

“I don’t know how to hide them,” Nimue answered. Pausing a moment, she turned to Oengus and said, “The church and Cumber are amassing a huge army to destroy us and all the humans who helped us. King Uther has asked that the fey warriors stay, but we need to move the women and children now.”

Bodb Derg understood that kind of desperation. Did not his people once face extermination?

Merlin turned to the dark haired sidhe and said, “Finnvarr, the fey are dying in England, not just from war but from a loss of magic. We may now have our best chance of saving them, not just their lives but their magic. However, they need help. The kind of help only another fey can give.” 

Finnvarr turned away and moved to the foot of Bodb Derg’s throne to stand with Oengus and his women. There was chatter among the assembled fey as arguments went back and forth on the feasibility of this. Bodb Derg let them talk.

A door opened and closed at the back of the hall and all got quiet. A woman in green, someone who commanded great respect came forward, and Bodb Derg stood up and descended the steps to greet her to take her hands in his. “Bridget,” he greeted and kissed her cheek. 

“My brother, we must help them, ” she said softly.

A man with wild red hair and beard stepped forward and said, “My lady’s kindness is well known, and we revere her above all other ban sidhe, but getting involved in someone else’s problems will only bring trouble to us.” 

Morrigan stepped forward and replied, “Credne has always wisely advised caution, to not rush into things, but we need to decide on a course of action soon. My ravens tell me the Queen’s Consort has already clashed with the church knights”

Nimue’s eyes widened. “You know this for certain?” she asked anxiously.

“He is fine,” Morrigan assured her, “but the fey he was trying to reach were not so fortunate.”

Nimue felt a stab of pain. “My Lords, she spoke to the entire group, and Ladies, I am a beggar among you. I stare at your great beautiful halls and want that for myself and my people.” She smiled. “My Consort who I love dearly even desires a dobharcu, and I promised him that we could do this when we came back.” 

Oengus smiled. “Consider it yours,” he told her.

“Thank you, but we have to come back to get it,” she reminded him. “What good would a magical creature be in England without the fey there to protect it?”

The debating continued, and she noticed the ban sidhes were more supportive as a whole in bringing the women and children to Ireland to protect them.

Nemain finally said her peace. “I would never have imagined the Tuathe de Danann have turned into cowards.”

Merlin stared at the war goddess and saw a possible ally for Uther’s alliance. But first things first. 

“You speak out of turn!” someone shouted at her.

“Says the man whose own wife currently lives in a tree,” Nemain shot back maliciously.  
Bodb Derg raised his hand and stopped the argument before it could progress. He gave Nemain a chastising look, but the ban sidhe warrior could care less. 

Bodb Derg considered everything a moment and then said, “Please accept the hospitality of my home while we discuss this.”

Nimue wanted to stay but Merlin gently steered her towards the great doors at the rear of the hall. One of the High King’s ladies showed them to a large spacious room where they could sit by a fire and wait. There were books written in a dozen different languages on the shelves, and any food or wine desired just had to be requested. Nimue took a seat in front of the fire and prayed for the best while Merlin browsed the library.

Time moves differently in the world of fairy, and Nimue was certain it had stopped. To keep from screaming, she thought about Lancelot and the oath he gave Uther Pendragon to stay and fight for him. She didn’t like it, but she understood Uther was afraid of the church and Cumber. Even Arthur was afraid of the fey leaving. But she would not tolerate them using his guilt against him.

Lancelot sat by the fire in Merlin’s large chair with his legs stretched out on a low stool in front of him. A cup of spiced wine took the chill off his bones; the fire warmed his feet. It also soothed his nerves to some extent. They had arrived almost too late to save the terrified fey, a species of miners who rarely came to the surface, but they had been smoked out of their homes by the Trinity Guard. He couldn’t get their terrified eyes out of his head. Finishing off the cup of wine, he set it on the floor and folded his hands across his lap. And the children. There had been children in the group. He reached for his boots; there would be no sleep tonight. 

Nimue was dozing in the chair when Nemglan entered the room and said that a decision had been reached. Jumping up she and Merlin followed him back to the great hall. The arguing was over. Neither Nimue nor Merlin could tell from facial expressions. Bodb Derg stood up and came down the steps to stand before them.

“We have decided to let you bring the women and children on to Rath Goll. Oengus has offered the use of two ships to move them.”

Nimue’s mouth fell open in surprise and relief. “I can not express my gratitude,” she replied. “When may we move them?”

“I can be on the Beggar’s Coast next week if the weather remains clear.” Oengus replied.

Nimue was so overjoyed she threw her arms around Oengus’ neck. “You and your family have been such good friends to me.” 

He grinned and patted her back. “You are welcomed.”

“Please stay the night as my guests,” Bodb Derg offered. 

Nimue glanced back at Merlin. “It is late,” he said. “One more night in Ireland won’t hurt anything.”

“All right, but first thing in the morning,” she replied. Another night of luxury wouldn’t hurt anything, not really. 

Lancelot dragged his dagger across the Trinity Guard’s throat and threw him to the ground. A wounded Red Paladin tried to crawl away, but Lancelot drove his great sword through the man’s back and pinned him to the ground. One final Paladin looked up at him with terror in his eyes. It didn’t last long.

Dragging the bodies back into the growth, he stripped them of their weapons and gathered up their horses. He did not see the ground open up and swallow the bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Nimue and Lancelot are connected, I would think they would share some powers.


	27. Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancelot can smell female arousal; he needs to be around Nimue.

Nimue couldn’t wait to tell Lancelot that the sidhe had agreed to let the fey move to Ireland. With Merlin hurrying behind her, she ran back to his chambers and found Lancelot belly down on his bunk fully clothed wearing his outer garments. Shaking him awake, she proceeded to tell him the good news.

She never noticed the blank look in Lancelot’s eyes but Merlin did. He jerked her back and brought his staff around to strike the fey warrior just as he lunged upwards. The blow knocked Lancelot hard against the wall. Merlin got between him and Nimue, but hitting the wall had knocked Lancelot’s senses back into him. Surprised to find himself on the floor with Merlin holding his staff out and Nimue looking frightened, he crawled to his feet and sat on his bunk. “What did I do?” he asked and rubbed his shoulder.

“ You weren’t yourself,” Merlin answered; Nimue sat on the bunk beside Lancelot and took his hand in hers. 

Her touch calmed him. “I don’t know what came over me,” he said, his heart breaking at the thought he would harm her.

Merlin ran his hand over the young warrior’s head and felt the familiar webs of an old spell. He remembered it well. Lancelot gazed up at him with expectant eyes. “Yes, you were bespelled, but it’s gone now.”

“It won’t come back, will it?” Nimue asked.

“I don’t think so,” Merlin said, “but I have no way to be certain.” 

Nimue stroked Lancelot’s face. “I need to go ready the women and children for leaving. Ride with me?”

“I would never let you ride alone out there,” he said and stood offering her his hand.If Merlin were not piddling around behind him, he would have found a way to coax Nimue into delaying her departure for a couple of hours.

“Do you know where Arthur is?” she asked curiously.

“I think he went to the camp, but we might need to check with Guinevere first.”

“I will inform the king of the arrangements,” Merlin said, not really paying attention to them. “If Oengus comes personally, Uther will want to meet him.” 

Nimue forgot all about Arthur and led Lancelot through the castle to the stables where the groom saddled her horse. Lancelot saddled Goliath, who was none the worse for his nighttime adventures. Mounting up they rode over the drawbridge took off across country in the cold crisp morning. The horses were eager and galloped easily over the country road. They passed an ox cart lumbering slowly towards the castle. Lancelot circled back just to be certain that it was carrying firewood and not hiding something else. Nimue stopped and watched him check the cart. She didn’t want to think about the fey whose last image in life were those eyes, those bright eyes that now gazed upon her with so much love and devotion. 

Satisfied that they were not trying to sneak anyone into the castle, he cantered up to her and resumed their ride to the Beggar’s Coast. They reached it at noon and found Arthur and Guinevere in the middle of a discussion with the fey elders. Seeing her the group descended on her. Of course the lesser fey came running.

Kaze spoke first, “Arthur says you are arranging to move the women and children?”

“The ones who can’t fight, yes,” Nimue said and dismounted. Lancelot followed her but stayed quiet. “We owe it to the humans who have sheltered and protected us.”

Kaze frowned. “I will stay and fight.”

“I would hope you would,” Nimue said with a smile and moved to face the entire group. “The sidhe are coming from Ireland in a week’s time. They will take you to a rath where you will be safe until we can all be reunited. Madra olc and the lesser fey know it well. He can help you learn how to make it respond for you.”

One of the older fey, a Tusk, spoke up. “Who will be in charge of this group?”

“We need to work out the details before they get here. I am staying in camp until they get here. All pregnant women and mothers with children will be leaving. Any sick or old will also be leaving. Any able-bodied men who want to leave must convince me that they need to leave. We are not abandoning the mortals.” 

“Is he staying?” someone asked nervously.

Arthur turned towards the speaker and said, “He has earned my trust. He protects our queen and does what he can to bring fey in from the countryside. As far as I am concerned he is welcomed here.”

Wroth’s successor as leader of the Tusks was not so trusting. Named Gorn, he was the strongest of the Tusk males and became leader based on his strength only. “I will sleep with my sword if he stays and set a watch.”

The Faun Argo who was Arthur’s second chuckled at that, “That doesn’t even scare me.”

Nimue stepped in before a fight broke out. “Lancelot stays with me. Because of his oath to King Uther, he travels between this camp and the castle. If anyone has a problem with this, they are free to leave. The Paladins and Trinity Guard are constantly looking for fey to pick off and kill.” No one accepted that offer. “Very well, nothing else will be said about Lancelot. He is mine and I decide what he can and can not do.” Nimue prayed Lancelot understood she was not being literal.   
Lancelot not wanting to be the cause of any problems for Nimue stepped forward and said, “I should leave for now. Patrol.”

Nimue turned and nodded. “Yes, but I do want you to return tonight. I have much to tell you.” 

He inclined his head and gathered Goliath’s reins. “Wait, I’ll go with you,” Arthur said and ran for his horse. Guinevere followed. A few minutes later they rode up and the three of them rode out of the camp together. Nimue watched them and for a moment envied Red Spear. 

“Your majesty,” Kaze interrupted her reverie. 

Lancelot led them south and cut across the fields towards the Minotaur Mountains. Once word got out that the sidhe would be helping move and week and innocent, there would be more fey appearing to make that desperate run to the Beggar’s Coast. At one point in the ride, they spied a pair of Red Paladins, but they offered no fight and fled. Fortunately on this day no one wanted to engage them. 

“Would that they respected all our swords,” Guinevere remarked as they drew rein to watch the red-cloaked monks ride away as fast as they could. “Should we go see what had their interest?”

A pillaged wagon lay on its side off the road. Bodies of humans and fey littered the ground. One of the females had been pregnant. Arthur and Guinevere checked the bodies, gathering up anything that they could use before burying the bodies. Lancelot could smell the presence of fey and stepped into the ditch to check the wagon. Moving the curtain aside, he was certain there was a trap door. Finding a latch, he opened the door. The fey girl protecting her little brother plunged her dagger into Lancelot’s chest. The wound wasn’t deep because of his clothing, but it still surprised him. 

“I won’t hurt you,” he said and withdrew the weapon. He could feel the blood flowing. “Arthur! Guinevere!” he shouted to his companions. Arthur poked his head inside the wagon. “Fey.” 

Climbing out of the wagon, he stepped to the front of it and removed his outer tunic. There was moss in his saddlebag to stop the bleeding. Guinevere saw him and offered to help. “Can’t return you to your queen bleeding,” she said. “What is this?”

“Powdered willow bark and moss,” he answered and sat on the wagon tongue. It hurt to move his arm. “It’s not deep,” 

“Maybe so,” Guinevere replied as Arthur and the fey children joined them. “Here take the blouse off.” He did as she said.

He lived in a world of sight, sound and scent. All animals had their own unique odor, and sometimes it changed with the seasons. When Guinevere touched his body her odor changed. He recognized it as the scent of lust and it surprised him at first. Was she not Arthur’s lover? He said nothing about it, realizing that to do so would lead to conflict, and he needed Arthur’s friendship.

“We really need to get to the castle and let the doctor sew you up,” she said expectantly and met his curious gaze. 

“I need to return to the fey camp,” he replied, puzzled by what he was sensing. Did Arthur not notice it? 

Arthur peered at the wound and said, “You should let Phineas look at it.” 

“Very well,” he said and looked at the frightened fey children. Their parents were dead on the ground. Rather than bury the bodies, they placed them inside the wagon and set it on fire. Guinevere and Arthur put the children on the horses behind them. Lancelot led the wagon horses. If they had to drop reins and run, they didn’t want to be slowed down moving the children. 

No one said anything as they rode back to the castle. The movement of the horse did cause some pain and might have opened the wound, but Lancelot couldn’t do anything about it right now. Riding through the gate, they were met by Merlin who took the children under his care until one of Uther’s women could take them to the kitchen and feed them. “You’re moving sore,” he observed, knowing the signs all too well. 

“The sister stabbed me,” Lancelot replied. “It didn’t go in deep but it is uncomfortable.”

“Why did she stab you?” Merlin asked and looked more closely at the stained over garment. It would be worse the closer to the skin it got.

“I scared her.”

“Come then, let’s go take care of it.”

Lancelot hesitated. “I told Nimue I would return tonight.”

“I think she will forgive you this one time,” Merlin said and steered the young warrior towards a large oaken door. There was a scraggly holly bush struggling to live to the left of it. Merlin grabbed a piece of green leaf and handed it to him. “Try and contact her.”  
Lancelot nodded and stuck the twig in his pocket. 

Arthur and Guinevere followed. Her scent was no longer strong, but it still troubled Lancelot that she had lusted after him. Arthur was his friend. He would have to be more careful and block it out of his mind. 

Phineas was piddling in his rooms when they arrived. He had Lancelot sit on a stool minus all his outer garments. 

“We need to remove the blouse so I can better access the wound,” Phineas said as he gathered his medicines. Merlin helped Lancelot remove it.

“You’ve got to stop getting hurt,” Merlin gently scolded him. 

“I did not know the children were armed,” Lancelot explained as Arthur and Guinevere moved around the stool to better see what Phineas was going to do to him. And there it was again. The sight of his bare skin aroused Guinevere. Could Arthur not tell?

Lancelot didn’t move as Phineas poked and probed, applied powders and then sewed him up. He and pain were old friends. Merlin told him to stay put and went to find him a clean blouse. While he was away, Phineas applied a dressing and tied it in place. 

“Does it hurt much?” Arthur asked curiously.

“Not really,” Lancelot replied with a heavy sigh. He had promised Nimue to return that night, and he meant to keep it. Plus Guinevere’s interest in him was also having an odd effect on him. It wasn’t that he wanted her, but he could smell her lust. When he was around Nimue, the scent of other females being aroused didn’t bother him. He had Nimue to help him get relief, but she wasn’t here and they were trying to make him stay the night instead of going to her. He needed to be with her. 

Merlin arrived with a clean blouse that he quickly donned. “I’m returning to the camp,” he said. “I will take the children with me.”

“They are afraid of you,” Arthur cautioned him. 

“Then come with me.”

Merlin frowned hard. “If you tear that open Nimue will have all our heads,” he cautioned.

Lancelot didn’t need to think about it; he needed to be with Nimue. “I promised,” he said laconically and reached for his over garments. 

“I’ll go with you then,” Arthur quickly decided.

“I’ll join you,” Guinevere said and smiled at Arthur. They were getting closer everyday. 

One and two came running into Nimue’s home chattering excitedly. Lancelot was back and he had Arthur and some children with him. Nimue stepped out of her hut and grinned until she noticed a sling supporting his arm. “What happened?” she asked looking up at him with her hand on this thigh. 

“I frightened them,” he answered and dismounted. Before she could say anything else, he kissed her, long and lingering, chasing away any protests. “I need you,” he whispered against her lips. 

Nimue smiled. “Madra olc can you and One and Two take care of Goliath?”

“Oh yes, my queen,” the small lesser fey replied. Grabbing the horse’s reins, he led the huge animal towards the shelter with One and Two following. 

Nimue hooked her arm in his good one and led him towards her hut. Clan members of the fey children gathered them up and led them to one of the shelters where they could be taken care of. Arthur and Guinevere retired to his newly built shelter. If they were lucky the new central hearth would not take too long to light up.

Lancelot undressed and lay on the low bed beside Nimue who gently touched his shoulder. “You need to start being more careful,” she lightly scolded him. She didn’t like seeing him always hurt.

“It’s not intentional,” he purred and kissed the side of her neck. He loved her smell. So female, so aroused, his. He bit down gently on her smooth skin and grinned when she whimpered. Sliding his lips across her smooth skin, he flicked her nipple with the tip of his tongue. Pinning her beneath him, keeping most of his weight on his elbows and knees, he leisurely took his time playing with her breasts. Nimue squirmed but he would not let her up or free her. When he sensed she was about to climax, he slipped his free hand between their bodies and stoked her intimately while greedily nursing on a tender nipple. He watched her face with dark passion inflamed eyes. When she pushed against his good shoulder to make him stop, she was too sensitive, he rose on his hands and knees. Taking himself in hand, he made sure he was positioned and thrust deep into her. He had been too agitated and didn’t last long, but Nimue grabbed his face and made him look at her for as long as he could. But the piercing sweet pleasure that shot up his spine and into his brain seized him and he shut his eyes tight. 

They slept beneath blankets of sheep skins, their legs entwined, Nimue’s forehead against his breast. As long as he could come back to her, it would be all right.


	28. Sidhe boats and killers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oengus comes to take the sidhe home to Ireland.  
> Wicklow's killer arrives.

The sidhe were coming the day after Solstice. Nimue led the fey in welcoming the rising sun. She knew there were places in England that were sites of power, but it was too dangerous to visit them now. Merlin welcomed it with her and used his staff to watch its progress on a stand of rocks.

Yule logs burned in each hut, and holly wreaths hung over every door. The children sang songs to ward off evil spirits, while the women prepared feasts of roast boar and bartered for root vegetables and grains. After the meal and the children were put to bed, while the adults sat around a great fire to wait out the longest night of the year with stories and songs. And drink. Lots of spice wine and mead and ale.

At the end of that longest night, when the sun finally returned, the fey greeted the first thread of golden light with shouts and reverence. This was alien to Lancelot, only a distant memory from his childhood, but something was speaking to him, telling him that he was the sun, the giver of life. Wrapped in his cloak, he stared at the sun and watched that thread spread upwards. Golden light promised another year to the fey.

At noon the Irish ships arrived, and at the helm of the first one stood Oengus mac Og. “Merlin!” he shouted to his old friend. Many of the fey had doubted his existence but here he was with his ships to take the women and children and old people to safety. Morrigan stood at his side waving. Nemglan and his warriors manned the second ship.

Uther and his knights desiring to meet this fey warrior rode up as the golden fey of Ireland gathered the women and children into their ships. He had never seen the likes of them. The ships were cut like the Nordic long boats, but there was something different about them. Their sails were brilliantly colored, green, gold and scarlet. A stylized swan adorned one and a raven the other. Realizing that he was in the presence of a creature older and more powerful than any man alive, Uther did not know how to address him. Carefully approaching the fey lord, he asked, “How do we speak to one another?” 

“My friends call me Oengus,” the golden fey answered with a great smile. “And this is Morrigan. Careful, she bites.” 

“Only those I know,” the raven witch replied good-naturedly and greeted Merlin with a kiss on the cheek. She slid up to Lancelot and had him bend down so she could also kiss him on the cheek. “I have missed you,” she said and winked.

“Perhaps we can talk before you leave?” he asked affectionately. “I have a question that maybe you can answer.”

Intrigued, Morrigan replied, “Perhaps we can speak now?”

Arthur standing back for a moment was amazed at what he was seeing. The leader of the sidhe looked like a teenage boy. Joining Nimue and Merlin, he nodded at Oengus as a way to introduce himself. Oengus, having heard of Nimue’s dark warrior, returned the nod. “You are Arthur?”

“Yes, my lord,” Arthur responded with a smile. 

Morrigan and Lancelot walked away from the group but stayed visible. “What’s bothering you, little brother?”

He smiled at her choice of words. “I have discovered that the scent of human females distracts me.”

Morrigan almost laughed but stopped herself. “That is because you are attracted to females, my boy. This is something you must train yourself to ignore, There is nothing magical about it.”

“I don’t want to go back to what I was,” he mildly protested. He really didn’t want to shut down his emotions anymore. He liked feeling things.

“And you won’t. Be kind to yourself, and when you join us in Ireland, we can spend more time visiting. I would love to sit down and discuss what you saw in the tree.”

This conversation was not for a short visit. She slipped her arm in his to return to the ships as they were nearly loaded. “Why were you never interested in me?” he asked curiously.

Now she laughed. Nimue’s lover did have an ego after all. “I am three thousand years old, or more, I lost count, and you are much too young for me.” 

“But Nemain and Caelfind did not find me too young.”

“One has no morals and the other wanted a baby.”

He considered it a moment and asked, “Have you heard anything about Caelfind?”

“She has what she wants, and we won’t be hearing from her for at least five hundred years.” Looking up at him, she said, “This is why the sidhe would not do it. And don’t you go courting trouble.” 

“I won’t,” he assured her. 

They walked back arm in arm. Pym and the lesser fey were saying good-bye to Nimue, hugs and snuggles. The black shapeless thing was sitting in a tote on the back of the pony mare. Madra olc was talking to the mare while holding her lead rope. Because of her connection to Nimue, Pym was now the overall leader of the group with Maldra olc as her adviser since he was the one who knew how things worked. 

Nemglan on the second ship was ready to sail. He would be staying with the new arrivals as long as they needed him. Calling for the anchor to be raised, he assumed the pilot wheel as the sails billowed on both ships. The women and children waved at their men with Uther watching. Almost floating on air the ships of the sidhe move slowly across the water. He was relieved that the noncombatants were finally leaving although everyone was certain there would be more fey arriving at the camp. What happened next, no one but Merlin had imagined, the fey ships vanished. 

“Merlin, where did they go?” Uther demanded anxiously.

“Hidden, my Lord. The old fey have many powers, and this is but one.”

“Please tell us you spoke to them about an alliance?” 

“Indeed,” Merlin lied. “I will need to make another visit in the future.”

“See to it.”

“I will,” Merlin assured him. “I will.”

Cumber and Wicklow stood on beach as the Viking longboat slid on to the shore. It was designed to go any and everywhere, but it was not Norse. On the great sail was a Flaming Sword like a burning cross. It was cold and Wicklow wanted to get out the wind, but this was the man he had sent for, Baron Otto von Oldenfield, the feykiller. And he traveled with aides, grooms and a mistress or two. 

The man who jumped from the boat to the beach was a strong man with short yellow hair. Sharp blue eyes met Wicklow’s after giving Cumber a cursory once over. Cumber’s daughters were ignored. “Abbot,” he said and approached the churchman.

“Yes?”

“You sent for me?”

“Indeed I have.”

“Where would you like me to put up my tent?”

“Any place is adequate,” Wicklow replied, his first impression of Oldenfield positive. The fey killer was a tall man, as tall as the Monk, but more powerful. 

“Then we will speak after I have settled,” the baron said and motioned to his aides to find a space for his tent. A plank was lowered and a powerful black stallion with white haunches was led down it. A young woman in expensive clothes and furs followed the horse. 

“This is the man who will kill the Monk?” Cumber asked Wicklow curiously.

“It is,” Wicklow replied with certainty.” He has hunted and killed the most vile creatures in Prussia, the Holstatt boar and the Simargi among other things.” 

“Mindless animals. Has he ever hunted a man?” 

“I imagine he has.”

“One like this?”

Wicklow decided to ask him when the baron appeared for the evening meal with his mistress Lady Inga Anne-Marie Schwarzburg. Cumber and his two surviving daughters were also present. 

“Tell me Baron von Oldenfield, have you ever hunted a fey like this before?”

von Oldenfield did not answer right away, but when he spoke the tone of his words were greater than the words themselves . “There is nothing I haven’t hunted.”

“This fey warrior killed a dozen of Abbot Wicklow’s Trinity Guard in one meeting,” Cumber informed him curiously. “You will earn your reward.”

“I always earn my reward,” von Oldenfield replied .”

Lancelot slept nude on Nimue’s bed while she read one of the books that Nemglan had brought for her. It was dark outside but the fire burned bright in the firepit and warmth filled the small shelter. The coldest months of winter were upon them and only a fool would be out this time of the year. Fighting down a yawn, she closed the book and set it at the head of the bed. Making a nest under the goose down covers, she managed to get his lower half covered without waking him. He was so pretty asleep and she didn’t want to wake him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Winter Solstice festival is what I gathered on line.
> 
> Sorry this is a short chapter.


	29. Love and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The baron begins stalking his prey.

As feared there were fey still trying to find Nimue’s camp in the wild. At night Lancelot, Kaze and Arthur along with any fey horsemen who wanted to join them would ride out and light fires east of the Minotaur Mountains. They wanted to be seen and made it as bright as they could. Most of the time they attracted humans looking for like-minded travelers to share the night with. These people would join Arthur and his men for a ride to the castle when the fire was finally abandoned. And the fey would accompany Lancelot, Kaze and their men on the ride back to the camp. 

This night a well-dressed man on a chestnut horse rode out of the darkness seeking the warmth of their fire. Arthur recognized his accent as Prussian. “What brings you this way at night?” he asked the man who dismounted and accepted a cup of hot mead from one of the fey at the fire.

“I have been on the road for several days. I had hoped to reach the Pendragon’s castle before darkness, but it caught me out in the open,” the man replied and took a sip of the warm drink. “This is sehr gut,” he said and looked at the men and women standing around the fire. “I see I am in the company of men and fey.”

“All allies of King Uther,” Arthur replied and noticed the man carried no weapon larger than a dagger. 

“Unfortunately the fey in my lands have all been driven eastwards into Russia.” He stopped speaking, his eyes sweeping over the fey. Most were simple creatures not worthy of his time. The dark skinned cat woman was another matter and studied him with golden eyes. Interesting. Of course the one he was after was not paying attention to him at all. On one knee by the fire, the Weeping Monk seemed impervious to his presence. “And you must be the one the churchmen fear?.”

Lancelot looked up. “They have no need to fear me if they behave themselves.”

The Prussian smiled and took another sip of mead. “Do you not fear the price they have placed upon your head?”

This was news for all of them. “What price?” Arthur asked quickly.

“When I stayed uber nacht, I learned they wanted the head of the Weeping Monk on a post. There ist a reward.”

Lancelot stood and faced the man. He was taller than the Prussian but not as weighty. “Will you be returning by way of the Paladins when you finish your business?”

“Ja.”

“Then give them my regards.”

The Prussian smiled. “With pleasure.” Finishing off his mead, he handed the cup back to the fey man by the fire. “It was very gut. Danke” Mounting his horse, he paused a moment and then said, “I saw some fey back that way. They are cold and on foot, maybe one is riding a donkey, but they are in distress. I bid you gute Nacht,” He reined the chestnut horse around but paused a moment to stare down at Lancelot. The fey warrior had an intelligent face and very alert eyes. He would be a challenge worthy of a Prussian baron and fey killer. He inclined his head and then spurred the horse into a quick canter. He still needed to go to Pendragon’s castle. 

Arthur and Lancelot mounted up and went to find the fey that their guest had seen. In the back of their minds was the possibility that this was a trap, but none materialized. Only able to go as fast as the slowest member, Lancelot placed all the children on Goliath’s back while Arthur returned to the fire to bring the other horsemen. The woman on the donkey was miserable; Lancelot was sure she was in the early stages of labor. When Arthur and the men returned everyone took a passenger. Arthur took the pregnant woman into his arms and carried her sitting across his legs. She was cold and exhausted.

They rode into the camp late and were met by Nimue and a male healer, who along with his assistant took the woman and her husband to the healing shelter. Their children followed Kaze to join another group of women and children who had come in the night before.

“Are you hungry?” Nimue asked Lancelot. 

“I could eat something,” he replied. “But first.” They led Goliath to the pen and unsaddled him. A quick brush down of straw had him playing with his lower lip.

Nimue smiled at the horse and then slipped her arm in Lancelot’s. “Let’s get you fed,” she said and dragged him towards the fancy shelter that they had built over the cauldron. It had to be kept outside to keep the fire going, but no one wanted anything extra to go into the pot. 

He sat cross legged on the ground while she sat on a stool behind him and brushed his hair. They quickly had company. Kaze, getting her own bowl of food, gazed at them a moment and then shook her head. It was hard to believe sometimes that this man was the Monk who had almost killed her. They never talked about it.

“That man tonight was an odd one,” she remarked curiously and stood to eat her food.

“What man?” Nimue asked, her fingers lightly scratching his scalp. 

“A Prussian on his way to Pendragon’s castle. Told us there was a price on Lancelot’s head,” Kaze answered.

Nimue stopped playing with his hair and wrapped her hand around his throat. Lifting his chin, she gazed down and asked, “When was I to hear about this from you?”  
“When I knew for certain that this was true,” he replied. He would have preferred that Kaze had waited, but now it was out. 

“Any threat to you is a threat to me,” she informed him. Bending over she kissed him on the forehead. “The next time you will tell me.” 

“Very well,” he agreed and stuck the wooden spoon into his mouth.

Baron von Oldenfield rode over the drawbridge into the castle. Merlin was here somewhere, but shadow lords required more than sword and skills to defeat. And he was not being paid to fight ‘gods’. Finding some lodging and a place to stable the horse, he paid for one night’s lodging. He would leave by noon after making certain he was seen. 

Making love was so easy with him, their connection pure and magical. Nimue was never too tired to join him in bed. Staring down into his smiling face, she whispered, “I love you.” 

He stretched his neck and kissed her. Lying back he said, “I never thought I would ever hear those words.”

“Remind me to say it at least once a day,” she said and planted a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. 

“Just once a day?” he asked with a slight pout. Then he smiled and it was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen. “I hope I say it more than a dozen times a day.”

She snuggled down beside him, his arm around her bare shoulders, her leg over his thigh. The thought that Wicklow had placed a bounty on his head frightened her. “Maybe you should have gone to Ireland with the others,” she thought aloud and rested her head on his shoulder. 

“Are the women and children in danger in Ireland?” he asked quietly.

“No, but…”

“Then why would you have me hiding there like an old woman or a small child?” he asked without malice in his voice. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” she said without apology.

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I am not an easy man to kill,” he assured her. 

“Even Merlin has died at one time or another, and I think he’s tougher than you.” 

She felt him chuckled. “You wound me,” he replied without offense. 

“Better I wound you with words than a sword,” she gently scolded him. For a long time she had ignored the scars upon his body made by terrible weapons that she could only imagine. Rising on her elbow, she gazed down at him and said, “You wear your victories on your skin.” She kissed a strange jagged scar on his rib cage. He raised his hand to stop her, but she grabbed it and held it away from her. How small her hand looked in his but her strength came from love. “Do not stop me,” she said and moved to kiss a long thin scar at the side of his neck. 

Lancelot stared at the simple ceiling while she touched every scar on his chest and abdomen with her lips. She was so gentle and tender, and he wished he could sink into the tenderness of her lips, but his cock had other ideas. 

She raised her head and gazed curiously at it. “Are you also scarred?” she asked with a curious expression on her face. 

“At this moment he is envious of my belly,” Lancelot answered and fought to keep his expression blank.

“Really?” Nimue asked and hefted the intrusive shaft in her hands. She even rose up on her elbows to better examine it. Lancelot’s face was no longer impassive. “Do you realize,” she spoke directly to his cock, “that if anything happens to him, you and I will have to part company?”

“That would be tragic,” Lancelot replied with a hitch in his throat.” 

“Indeed,” Nimue agreed. “No more soft kisses.” And she kissed the darkened head. “No more caresses.” And she ran her hand down the shaft, over his balls to the tender area between his thighs. She was going to kill him with kindness.

“Torture me and I will return the favor,” he warned her.

“Really?” she asked and moved so that she was resting one elbow on his thigh. She could see his face now. “How would you torture me?” she asked and licked his shaft like a piece of ice on a warm day.

“I would…” She took his cock into her mouth and ran her tongue over the head. Speech left him. Bracing himself on his elbows he watched her fellate him. The way she used her tongue was maddening. She took him into her mouth as deep as she could go. And when she hummed? Well, his endurance fell flat tonight. Taking a few heartbeats to collect his thoughts, he lunged at her and buried his nose in her pussy. He had her begging in short time, and when she fell apart under his talented tongue he rose higher and buried his reawakened cock into her hot dampness. Holding her hands flat over her head he reveled in her liquid heat.

He released her hands as a second orgasm built in his groin. Nimue grabbed his face and made him look at her. The sharpest sweetest sensation ripped up his spine and settled in his brain. Nimue stroked his cheek. 

At first light Lancelot and Arthur readied to ride back to Pendragon castle. Nimue, wrapped in fur watched them saddle their horses. Kaze joined her but was not riding out. Before mounting up Nimue insisted on a kiss. The thought now that she could lose him to a bounty hunter terrified her. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he said softly but still planted a tender kiss on her lips. ‘Don’t look for me tonight.”

“Why?” she asked defensively.

“I need to keep an eye on things,” he replied as gently as he could. 

“Then I will look for you in the morning,” she answered with determination in her voice. She would never rest easy as long as she didn't know where he was or what was happening to him. 

Arthur, mounted and not a little envious of them, spoke up, “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Nimue smiled and kissed Lancelot again and then stepped back. She watched in silence as he and Arthur rode off. She did not want to think of the danger he was in and decided to busy herself with the children that were now in the camp. There weren’t many, but there were still things she could teach them. 

It was near midday when Arthur and Lancelot rode into Castle Pendragon. Von Oldenfield was just getting ready to leave when they rode by him. They were met by Merlin, who must have been expecting them. Keeping in the shadows of the stable, he watched them enter the castle together. Yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nimue and Lancelot will become even more intimate the closer they get to Imbolc.


	30. The Blood Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter introducing just who this fey killer is.

Uther was always relieved to see Arthur and Lancelot when they showed up after several days away. He felt safer with them around.

“We were beginning to think you were not coming back,” he said and met them on the steps.

“Our apologies, sire,” Arthur replied. “It has been busy. The cold has been driving what fey are left towards us. Wicklow knows this and has been sending out his Guard to intercept them.”

“We would think the numbers would be on the decline.”

“They are,” Arthur answered, “but there are still some out there.”

“I have been running into raiders loyal to Cumber,” Lancelot added. “They scatter when they see me, but they have been hitting outlying areas.” 

“Those desperate enough have been coming to the fey camp seeking food and protection,” Arthur added. “Nimue has been taking them in under your name.”

“That is good,” Uther agreed. “Merlin is readying to return to Ireland.”

“When is he leaving?”

“Soon,” Uther replied and turned back towards the heavy door. “Walk with us.” Arthur and Lancelot followed Uther inside.

Von Oldenfield had been close enough to hear the conversation. And an idea was forming in his head. He mounted his horse and rode out of the Pendragon castle. Within a couple of hours he was back at Wicklow’s camp with a plan in place. 

Lancelot slept belly down on his cot while Merlin did whatever Merlin was doing. He stopped occasionally and watched Lancelot snore softly in his sleep. A heavy wisent skin covered the young warrior whose clothes were on a chair by his cot. His swords lay on the floor beside him. Merlin was going to Ireland soon and considered taking Nimue with him. But he didn’t know how long he was going to be gone, and Imbolc was coming up in a few weeks. He doubted that Nimue or Lancelot knew what to expect. Perhaps he needed to wait until it was over. It had been so long since he had had to perform the rites, he wasn’t certain he could remember it all. 

Leaving the warrior sleeping, Merlin slipped quietly out of the room. He needed to see Oengus to set up this meeting with Bodb Derg and the counsel. He wouldn’t be gone long, at least this time. With a wave of his sword, he called upon the gods of time and space to answer him, and in a strike of lightning, he vanished.

Oengus was always happy to see Manannan mac Lir, no matter what he called himself, but wished the visits were more social and less official. 

“I need to speak with Bodb Derg and the council again,” Merlin said as he walked through the rose garden with Oengus. “We aren’t going to survive without the help of the sidhe.” Morrigan listened to the conversation in silence, her presence as a raven going unnoticed in the ancient oak trees. “The humans have put a price on Lancelot’s head, but he refuses to withdraw from the field.”

“That is understandable,” Oengus replied thoughtfully. “Lancelot feels a lot of guilt and would expunge it with his own blood.” 

“Which would do the fey no good,” Merlin snorted. 

“I know. I will speak to my brother as soon as I can see him,” Oengus promised.

Morrigan waited until they were out of the garden before flying away. She wanted to see Nemglan who was still with Nimue’s people. 

Every single female from among Nimue’s people was in love with the beautiful swan sidhe warrior. Nemglan did his best to ignore their fascination, but he was not dead and ignoring the obvious had never been one of his virtues. But he didn’t think it a good idea to show any favoritism. Besides, Pym was in constant need of advice and assistance. Morrigan’s arrival was almost a relief.

She looked the rath over and said, “Very nice.”

“Aye, well it’s in spite of them,” Nemglan replied as some children peered around the building at their newest visitor. “Anything special bringing you here?”

“I am going to England. A fey killer has been hired to hunt Lancelot,” she explained, “and I think I may know who it is.”

Nemglan frowned. Morrigan was not one to stay put in Ireland and knew of beings that he had never heard of. “Who do you think it is?”

“Der Blutritter. A man born of a noble woman and sired by an alp.” 

Nemglan knew what an alp was and was now worried. “Perhaps I should go warn him.”

“If this is who I think it is, he will recognize you right off. I’m going.” 

“And he won’t recognize you?”

“Ravens fly everywhere. A swan out of place will only get himself killed.” 

Nemglan did not like this. “I should be going,” he reasoned aloud. “But aye, he’d recognize me.” 

“I wanted someone to know where I was going,” Morrigan said and squeezed Nemglan’s arm. “I’ve become attached to him. Can’t let anyone just murder him.” 

“You be careful yourself,” Nemglan called after her as shifted in a raven and flew towards the east. 

The sun was beginning its dip below the horizon. Von Oldenfield in his tent with his aides and his mistress readied for the night. The chain mail that hung from his shoulders was the most expensive that money could buy, each piece of iron link dipped in molten silver to give it its polished gleam. A blood red talbard fit over the armor and on the breast of the garment roared a flaming griffin. Leather britches with reinforced knees and heavy horse hide boots completed his suit. 

“You are unusually quiet,” he said to his mistress, who was watching him dress from her ornate folding chair. “One would think you worry about me.” 

“This is the first time you face a man your equal,” she answered tonelessly. 

“But really, is he?” von Oldenfield rhetorically asked his image in the mirror. “He’s no different than a hundred other Vanir that I have killed.” He turned towards her. “Or are you hoping he is more than just a simple Vanir?”

She stood up and approached him cautiously like approaching a dangerous animal. “I would never wish such a thing,” she replied carefully and laid her hand upon his scarlet breast. He smiled but it was without affection. “Be careful with this one.”

He grabbed her face in his strong hand and kissed her hard before releasing her with a violent shove. “Ist Damon bereit?” 

“Ja Herr Baron.”

“Gut.”

Von Oldenfield reached for his helmet, the outer coating of pure silver the same as the chain mail, but what set it off were the two horns, and from them wings of blood red leather unfurled. Devil wings. A sword with the pommel of an eagle’s claw…or a dragon’s… hung from his left hip. A battleaxe in a red scabbard hung from wide flat pommel. The stallion, chain mail hanging from his collar, snorted fiercely.

Von Oldenfield mounted and then placed his helmet upon his head. A troop of Red Paladins were accompanying him. His steward handed him a shield called a heater. Like his talbard it was blood red with a fiery griffin in the center of it. A kick in the side sent the stallion cantering into the countryside.  
Morrigan lit in a tree after crossing the sea to rest. She was tired and Lancelot was still a bit of a way off. She would have been content to stay the night in the tree, but she spotted a fire in the distance, a big one. Curiosity got the better of her and she flew off to see what it was.

A farmhouse was burning, the family cringing on the ground before the Red Paladins and the monster Morrigan feared. The man and his sons were cut down without a second thought by Paladin swords. The daughters were bound and set on the back of Paladin horses to be taken to their camp, while their mother begged for mercy. Gleaming in the light of the fire, the Blutritter watched the burning homestead behind his gleaming unholy helmet. 

“Woman,” he told the distraught mother on the ground, “tell Uther Pendragon what you have seen here. Tell him I won’t stop until the fey warrior meets me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> basically his father was the same kind of demon as Merlin's.


	31. The Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Baron tries to draw Lancelot out.

Merlin returned to Castle Pendragon to find it in an uproar. A severely distraught woman found by some of Uther’s men was screaming about a knight with a dragon wing helmet who had killed her husband and sons and had the red Paladins take her two daughters. And somehow Lancelot was involved with it. 

Merlin stepped into the hysterics and acknowledged the king with a nod. “He wants you!” she shrieked at Lancelot. “He killed my man to send YOU a message.”

“If he wants me, I will go find him,” Lancelot responded and turned away, his eyes falling on a dark woman in the shadows. Morrigan! Did she come back with Merlin? She motioned him to follow her and then turned away. She needed to speak with him in a more private setting.

A narrow alley between two buildings would have to do. “ Does Merlin know you are here?” was Lancelot’s first question.

“No, not yet,” she answered warily. Staring up at him, her face never more serious, she said, “You must not fight the Blood Knight. He was brought here to kill you.”

“I am not easy to kill,” he replied grimly. “We dealt with worse in Ireland.”

“He’s not mortal,” Morrigan interrupted him. “There are all kinds of fey, most like us a part of the land, but some have embraced a darkness that serves no purpose. They have declared war on the Christian god and mean to give the world back to Chaos. Do you still have Moralltach?”

“I returned it to Oengus,” Lancelot answered now regretting that decision.

Morrigan grabbed the front of his tunic. “You must stay alive.”

“I am not suicidal,” he answered indignantly.

“On Imbolc you will be crowned a fey king, the first in a thousand years. I know it. I feel it in you. You will bring life to your people and magic…but not if you are dead.”

Merlin found them and was surprised to see Morrigan. “What brings you to England?”

“The Blood Knight is hunting Lancelot,” she answered tersely, “and I find he has returned Moralltach to Oengus.”

Merlin had heard of the Blood Knight but had never met him. “He’s not a mortal.” That meant only thing. “Here,” he said and handed Fragarach to Lancelot. “Bear this until I can retrieve Moralltach. It appears we will need both.”

“What am I to do in the meantime, hide? Let these people be destroyed to get at me?” Lancelot asked angrily.

Merlin, his thoughts racing, said, “We need to get the solitary farmers to shelter. My first thought is the fey camp, but they are in the open and I do not want this knight going there.”

“Where then?” Morrigan asked.

“Here.” 

“There won’t be enough food,” Lancelot countered.

“There will if we bring the cauldron here.”

Nimue watched the sea with troubled eyes. It was cold and a mist rose from the almost glass like surface in the bay. Nothing moved, not even the breeze. She looked up as a pair of cranes flew overhead. They circled back and landed in front of her shifting into fully armed sidhe warriors.

“Nemglan sends us to guard the fey queen,” one of them spoke, his throat unused to human speech. 

Nimue stared at them in surprise. What was going on that Nemglan sent warriors from Ireland to protect her? But for once she was grateful she and Kaze had help.

Uther authorized the round up on the promise that the cauldron would be given to Castle Pendragon. Guinevere’s warriors would scower the coast while Arthur took men in land. Merlin, Morrigan and Lancelot rode for the fey camp. At this point Merlin saw no use in arguing with Uther over who owned the cauldron. 

Clattering into the camp, he jumped off his horse and was surprised to see the bird sidhe warriors with Nimue. “What has happened?” she demanded anxiously.

“Cumber and Wicklow have brought in a fey killer that is actually quite good at murder,” Morrigan answered. Noticing the bird she, she asked, “When did Dilis and Iontaofa arrive?” 

“This morning,” Nimue answered her eyes sweeping over her lover to be certain he favored no new injuries. Satisfied, she turned to Morrigan and asked, “Is this why you are here?”

“I would give my life to protect the young fey king,” the raven witch answered.

“Fey king?” Nimue echoed.

“I have seen this in my visions. Lancelot must not face this Blood Knight. Not without Moralltach.”

Nimue gazed up at Lancelot. “You left it in Ireland.”

“Aye, I did,” he replied, regretting that decision more and more. 

“Then I must go get it,” Morrigan said but stopped. “Iontaofa,” she said to the bird warrior. “Fly to your lord and tell him we need the Great Fury.” He glanced at Nimue who nodded her permission. With a lift of his arms the bird sidhe shifted into a great crane flying west.

“We need to take the cauldron back to Pendragon castle,” Merlin said before he got too distracted.

“What about the fey?” Kaze asked suspiciously.

“They will not do without,” Merlin assured her. “We are moving all the humans outside of towns onto the castle grounds. We will have to feed them.”

“Once more what about the fey?” Nimue asked this time.

“I will bring food every night. I do not want this fey killer coming here,” Merlin explained quickly. “You can not stop him if he attacks.” Casting dreadful eyes on Lancelot, he added, “I do not want Lancelot here either.” Lancelot quickly schooled his face, but not before a moment of shock reflected in his eyes. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Then I need to meet him now,” Lancelot growled softly. “I am….”

“An idiot,” Morrigan answered irritably. “For now we need to make sure everyone is safe.” The last thing she wanted was for Lancelot to face this Blood Knight unprepared. A meeting was inevitable, but they needed to be ready. And Merlin’s idea of leaving the fey out here in the open was also a mistake. What would keep this creature from riding out here and slaughtering everyone?

“Then Uther needs to bring the fey into Castle Pendragon,” Nimue said, “Or let my people shelter with Red Spear’s people. At least let the women and children shelter inside the castle walls.” 

Merlin would have preferred keeping Nimue and the fey out of the line of fire, but as that wasn’t going to happen, he needed to consider all the ways this could backfire on them. “If we are moving, then let us break camp and move now while we still have enough day light left.”

“We take what we need and get the vulnerable ones moving now,” Kaze said and ran to get her horse. “You men will form a barrier between the fey and any danger they face.”

Merlin readied the cauldron for moving, while Kaze got the few women with children mounted. All horses were utilized. Nimue and her bodyguard rode with this group. Merlin and the men helping him would catch up. They would reach Castle Pendragon after dark.

Having the sword in his scabbard did not actually make Lancelot feel safer. The sword was quiet in his possession, unlike Moralltach that hummed in his hands.

Wicklow looked at the two young girls now in von Oldenfield’s hands. This was highly improper. Cumber didn’t care one way or another, although they did appear to be a bit too young for his tastes. When Wicklow complained about this, Cumber replied, “You invited a devil into your camp, and now you are upset when he acts like one?” 

Uther was not surprised to see Merlin return not only with the cauldron but all the fey that had stayed at the camp. The arrival of so many warriors encouraged him, and there weren’t enough women and children to upset anything. The men were going to shelter in the castle yard for the night and move to Red Spear’s camp in the morning.

Lancelot was helping children off an old mare when the distraught woman assaulted him. “What about my daughters?” she demanded with tears in her eyes. “What about them?” Someone tried to steer her away from him with kind words, but she would have none of it. “My family was destroyed because of YOU!”

Lancelot said nothing as the woman continued to yell at him. Finally someone got her away, and Nimue was able to break through his internalized stare.

“It’s not your fault,” she softly told him. He smiled and inclined his head but said nothing.

After all were settled and the cauldron was once more bubbling, Merlin set about making arrangements for Nimue and Dilis. It quickly became apparent that Uther wanted his elite fey together…easier to find. So Nimue and her bodyguard were also moved in with Merlin and Lancelot. Curtains were hung and Dilis got a nice thick warm rug on the floor in front of the fire. His buddy would get the same kind of bed when he returned. 

Morrigan opted to stay in bird form on the castle’s keep. 

Merlin needed a drink and took Dilis with him to share in the festivities. The sidhe warrior did not know what they were celebrating, but a drink was always welcomed. “I ‘ll be back in an hour, maybe” Merlin told his guests. On his way out, he looked at the highest point of the keep and waved at Morrigan. “Come have a drink,” he called to her.

Nimue was tired after the long ride in the cold, but it did not dampen her desire for her lover. “Think he means for us to hurry up and finish?” she playfully asked.

“I think so,” he replied and captured her sweet face between his strong hands. Bending down he kissed her with such a hunger it left her breathless….

Once he was certain she was asleep, he got up and dressed. He understood their desire to protect him, but this was not acceptable. If those girls were alive, he needed to go get them back.

Merlin and a slightly drunk Dilis who had won a drinking contest against the local men, returned to the room a few hours later to find the curtain in front of Lancelot’s bed pulled, but all was quiet. Merlin put his fingers to his lips to keep Dilis from making any noise and then remembered bird sidhe weren’t all that talkative. 

Morrigan returned to her perch and ruffled her feathers against the cold. Drawn by some warning in her mind, she paid a visit to the stables to check on the horses. As she feared Goliath was gone. “Fool!” she hissed. Flying up to Merlin’s window she opened the shutters and stepped in. “Either he’s gone or someone’s stolen his horse!” she angrily announced waking Nimue up in the process. “Is he here?”

“No,” Nimue answered and jumped up with the quilt wrapped around her.

“ Damn him!” Morrigan growled. Glaring at Dilis, she asked, “Are you sober enough to fly?”

“Aye,” the bird sidhe answered. He was standing on his own two feet, but his sobriety was still questionable. But it didn't matter, if Lancelot was doing something stupid, they might need him.

“Then let’s go. He has several hours on us, but we should be able to catch him.”

Nimue, fighting back fearful tears, said, “It’s the girls. He blames himself.” Now she truly understood his gentle passion when they made love.

“Fool!” Morrigan spat and turned towards the window. “Follow me!” 

Nimue ran to the window and watched the two bird-sidhe fly into the night. She was at once angry and frightened. “I’m going to pull his hair out,” she passionately vowed. “I’ll claw out his eyes!” Merlin took her tenderly into his arms and let her scream and cry into his shoulder until she was exhausted.

Morrigan followed his metal ‘scent’ learned from his time in Ireland. She and Dilis found him a few hours before dawn hiding in the brush over Wicklow’s camp. “You fool,” she started, but he grabbed her wrist and silenced her.

Leaning close so his words were only for her, he whispered, “If you love me, you will help me.”


	32. The first act of a fey king.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancelot and the Blood Knight are one step closer to a personal battle.

Morrigan in raven form ruffled her feathers while sitting on a tent pole in Wicklow’s camp. No one paid any attention to her. Across from her stood the Blood Knight’s large elaborate tent. The Knight’s mistress had come out once in the morning for fresh water and had returned. It was nearing midday, and Morrigan was beginning to think this was a useless watch. Dilis had gone back to Castle Pendragon to tell Merlin what they were up to.

During the early morning hours Lancelot had killed a couple of Red Paladins for their robes. It was his intention to sneak in and get the girls. Nice plan if the Blood Knight would take a ride or do something. With hoods up they kept a very low profile in the camp, Dilis basically followed Lancelot and did whatever Lancelot told him to do. Most of the time they crouched around a fire in the vicinity of the Blood Knight’s tent.

Morrigan had had a real scare once that morning when someone asked Dilis a question. The bird sidhe froze dead in his tracks just staring at the man. Lancelot came to the rescue saying that his brother was mute. Deaf, dumb and mute. 

They carried the ruse well into the afternoon when the Blood Knight finally emerged from his tent with his miserable looking mistress. The Knight was going to take a ride and had his chestnut horse saddled. Him! Waiting until he was certain the Baron was well away, Lancelot entered the tent and found the two little girls bound to the tent pole. Cutting them free, he whispered gentle words to them and passed one to Dilis, while he carried the other.

A perfect rescue and escape. Except they were disturbed by the Knight’s mistress returning. She stopped and stared at them; they at her. 

“You’re the one he wants to kill,” she said calmly, no fear in her voice.  
“I am,” Lancelot answered and put the little girl down just in case.

“I’m not your enemy. I only ask you take me with you.”

Lancelot looked at Dilis and then back at the woman. If she screamed right now, there would be fight and with the entire camp just outside, no guarantee that either of them would survive. “Can you get me two horses?”

“As many as you need,” she assured him. “Go now, before his steward returns. I will have the horses ready at dark. Return for me and them then. Leave the girls for now. They will be safe with me.” 

Waiting to see if the woman would keep her word or betray them was wearing on Morrigan’s nerves. How did they know the Blood Knight would not return and catch them? What was Lancelot thinking? Or was he thinking? They were weeks away from Imbolc and the change was beginning to show itself.

When the sun began its descent behind them in the West and a cold wind blew off the bay, the Paladins and Guard sought their tents. Inge stepped outside of the Knight’s tent and went for the horses. Lancelot sent Dilis to help her while he and Morrigan slipped into the tent for the little girls.

They found the men who were supposed to look after Inge and the girls dead, their throats slit. Their bodies lay crumpled on the ground. 

“Poisoned first,” Morrigan said as she looked the scene over. Not wanting to make any noise, but needing to make it look like a struggle, she pulled quilts off the beds. Lancelot thought it was a waste of time. Picking up the largest girl, leaving the smaller one for Morrigan , he peered cautiously out of the tent. Dilis arrived and they ran for the saddled horses. Lancelot sent them on their way while he ran to get Goliath. 

Just after sunset four riders galloped across the moor. Lancelot did not spare the horses getting to Pendragon Castle. His biggest fear now was that the Blood Knight was there looking for him, and since no one knew von Oldenfield was the Knight, he could get next to Merlin or Kaze…or even Nimue. 

Morrigan used her magic of suggestion to get the guards to open the gates and let them ride through without stopping. They drew a hard rein in the courtyard. 

Nimue relieved to see him, ran up to Lancelot and desperately hugged and kissed him before slapping him hard on the arm. “Don’t do that anymore!” 

He smiled and then looked around as Arthur joined them. “Was von Oldenfield here?” he asked quickly.

“Yes, but he left before sundown. Why?”

“He’s the man hired to kill me. These are the girls he took and Lady Inge.”

Lady Inge, helped off her horse by Dilis, extended her hand to Arthur. “The dark knight I was told about.”

“My Lady,” he greeted and kissed her offered hand. “We were not expecting him to return with such a lovely guest.”

She smiled. “I confess I am unused to flattery.” Turning to Lancelot, she offered him her hand. He took it and guessed he was to follow Arthur’s lead and kiss it. The moment he bent over she leaned in and kissed his cheek at the edge of his lips. “If I can repay you in any way, just ask,” she said and then drew back.

Lancelot didn’t know what to say and straightened. The funny part was he liked the kiss. Nimwue came to his rescue…or hers, it was hard to say. “I am glad he was able to help you. If we need anything from you, we will certainly inquire.”

Morrigan was amused at Nimue’s quick thinking. 

Grooms came for the horses, and Nimue left Lady Inge in Arthur’s care. She and Lancelot needed to talk. He was tired and wanted to sleep. They compromised, when they were both nude she pinched his nipples as hard as she could; that would wake him up. And it did, but not the way she imagined. Her tired knight was awake. 

“No,” she said as he moved to nuzzle her neck. “We need to talk.”

“You talk,” he said and kissed her smooth warm neck. He moved a strand of hair and sealed his lips on her skin, letting his tongue brush her seductively.

“No,” she said and turned to face him. “No, you have to listen. You cannot leave without telling me. I worried nonstop about you.” Regretting the look that she had put into his eyes, she cupped his face and said, “I love you. If anything happens to you, it will kill me.” He didn’t know what to say, and so he stayed quiet. Kissing the side of his lips where Lady Inge had shown her appreciation, she added, “And you must stop bringing beautiful women home with you.”

He smiled. “I hadn’t planned on it.” Returning to her smooth neck, he kissed it gently at first and then lightly nipped her skin. “Besides,” he purred, “I can not help it if women like me.”  
“That sounds like a brag,” she murmured and closed her eyes. His lips were back on her skin, and she could feel his soft tongue flicking against her. His long fingers slid around her body to take possession of her breasts. He was much gentler with her nipples than she had been with his. When he took complete possession of them and continued his gentle assault on her neck and shoulder. Nimue melted and leaned back against him. He was so warm.

She sighed and turned enough to meet his mouth in a passionate kiss. Nimue didn’t want to let him go, even when their passion was sated. When he fell asleep in her tender embrace, her breasts a pillow for his head, she tried to forget how fearful she had been. She had to let him go. He had to show their people that they could trust him to do what was right.

Slowly untangling herself she eased on the cot beside him, but before she closed her eyes, she reached on the floor and found the piece of twine she had placed there. There were two loops in it; one went around her wrist and the other went around his.

She planted a soft kiss on his forehead and closed her eyes. Guilt is a wonderful thing. She opened them and removed the twine from their wrists. If he ever snuck off again, she would simply hobble him at night. 

Arthur was tending to his horse the next morning when a shout of panic went up and the gates were forced shut. Morrigan, Kaze, and Merlin were on the battlement staring down at something. When Lancelot and Nimue and Dilis came running, Arthur joined them.

He reached the gathering in time to hear someone shout up at them, “You have something of mine!” Arthur stared down at the Blood Knight in full regalia. “Return her to me!” 

“I need to think about it,” Lancelot shouted down at him.  
The Blood Knight got very quiet. Lancelot realized he was staring at Nimue. Lancelot gave no indication that it bothered him. Finally the Knight said, “If you will not fight me, perhaps a swap is in order.”

“Soon enough, Oldenfield!” Lancelot countered. He could not see Oldenfield’s face, so he had no way of knowing what the effect of hearing his name had on him. 

After a long silence, Oldenfield said, “Tell her to come out now or I will burn her, as I plan on burning you and what is yours. …after I enjoy her.” 

The threat enraged Nimue but Morrigan moved to her side and grabbed her hand. A glance told Nimue to not say anything. This went against everything inside of her but Nimue held her tongue. 

Merlin pondered unseating the Blood Knight, but this was Lancelot’s game. Although calling down lightning would be fun. The Blood Knight then did something puzzling, he turned his helmeted head towards Merlin. Did he read minds or sense intent? Interesting. 

“I will wait,” the Knight concluded and turned his horse. “And I will kill anyone who comes out or approaches,” he called over his shoulder. A nudge of the spurs and the battle stallion cantered away.

Lancelot took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ll have to face him. Might as well get it over with.”

“Not without Moralltach,” Morrigan shot back at him. “You need the other sword!”

“Well I don’t have the other sword!” Lancelot snapped back at her.  
No fragile maid with easily hurt feelings, Morrigan stepped into his anger and growled, “Then you wait because without it, you are dead.” Moving even closer, she added, “You die, the English fey die.” Having seen thousands of beautiful eyes glare at her in the past, she included, “You die, she dies.” And that was the dart in his armor. Lancelot glanced quickly at Nimue, whose eyes reflected her fear. He would not risk her for anything.

“Then where is it!” Lancelot snapped at Morrigan. “Why isn’t he back with it?”

“I can go check,” Merlin offered.

“No, you stay put,” Lancelot countered him. “You can at least dissuade him from doing anything stupid around the castle.” Merlin blinked in surprise. Carden’s beaten hound was speaking like a king. Even Morrigan looked grimly proud.

Now came the wait. Where was Iontaofa? The bird sidhe made his appearance with the sword on a chain around his neck an hour past noon. Reluctant to wait one second longer, Lancelot readied himself to face the Blood Knight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard chapter to write. All I want to do is write the Imbolc scene, but this must come first.


	33. First Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancelot and the Blood Knight meet for the first time.

Lancelot returned to his space in Merlin’s rooms to ready himself for going out to face the Blood Knight. Every fey and a couple of humans from the battlement had followed him apparently impervious to what changing entailed. 

“This is a bad idea,” Merlin warned him. A creature who intentionally hunted the most powerful fey had to be a very dangerous man.

Throwing a curious eye at his audience, wondering if they were going to leave, Lancelot answered, “I can’t run and hide behind women.”

This enraged Morrigan who crowded him and angrily announced, “Hiding behind women? A better sidhe than you listens to his women!” Pausing a moment, she then snapped, “Women can tell you more about your world than looking up at the clouds!” 

Lancelot retreated. “I did not mean to offend. But I need to change.” 

“Nothing I haven’t seen,” she snorted. Nimue didn’t know if she needed to rescue Lancelot or help Morrigan, so she waited. Morrigan looked at Merlin and said, “Get me a bowl of charcoal and some oil.” Merlin knew what she was going to do and responded quickly. “In ancient times the Celts would paint and tattoo magic signs on their skin…”

“I don’t…”Lancelot started to say.

“Do not argue with me,” the ban sidhe snapped. “I am not a druidess, but I am better than nothing.”

Kaze moved closer. “Magic signs of protection?”

.Merlin found a clay bowl and gathered ash from the hearth. To this he added fine olive oil, 

“Yes,” Morrigan said when he handed her the bowl. She was old enough to know that magic signs worked some of the time, and some time not at all, but the look on everyone’s face except maybe Lancelot’s told her the value of belief. “Sit.” He was humoring her because he cared.

Lancelot took a seat on a leather bottom stool. Morrigan could now paint him without straining her neck. “You know the first time we did this spell, the man was naked.”

“Perhaps the next time,” Lancelot replied. It was one thing to go full sidhe around sidhe, quite another around humans.

Merlin, his face lighting up, exclaimed, “I had forgotten that!” “When we captured Ceitlinn at Moytura.”

“Our Ceitlinn?” Nimue asked curiously while Morrigan turned the mixture into paint with a mortar. “Who captured her?”

“Oengus used himself as bait, but he first had to fight a dozen…”

“”Six,” Morrigan corrected him. Manannan was always bad about exaggerating things. 

Merlin frowned and then said, “Six Fomorian warriors. The biggest ugliest brutes you’ve ever seen. He was so convincing that we thought he was going to actually lose his head.”

Using her finger, Morrigan made a symbol on Lancelot’s forehead that looked like a bird in flight. She dragged a line from the bottom of the elongated V down his nose. He stared at her face and every so often she would glance at his eyes. She recognized them from centuries back. The same beautiful eyes that had brought down a great king ..all over a woman. 

“You get yourself killed and everything dies with you,” she murmured softly.

“That is not my intent,” he replied just as quietly. “And who’s to say I am the one who dies?” They made eye contact, one frightened, the other quietly confident.

“Stand up,” she finally said and stepped back. Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, ignoring everyone else in the room, she continued, “Once there were many kings and queens of the sidhe. Proud and beautiful until the humans came. Kill a mortal and nothing happens. Kill a sidhe or fey and something dies with it. Even something as simple as a tree.”

Arthur and Guinevere, who had joined them when she heard what was happening, looked uncomfortable. “Not all of us want to harm the fey,” Arthur replied defensively.

Morrigan smiled bitterly and glanced at him. “I am 3,000 years old and have only had two sons. One was possessed by a serpent. Diencecht said if my baby reached manhood the serpent would rip free, killing him and Ireland. Mac Cecht killed my baby and burned his heart. The ashes were thrown into a river that boiled away to nothing. No water has flowed there since then. My other son Adair died a thousand years ago. He was also attached to a tree, an oak.”

“I am sorry,” Arthur replied. The more he learned about the fey, the more tragic their fate was becoming in his mind.

“Without the kings the land dies, and eventually we die.”

Arthur needed to know more. “How many kings are there now?” he asked.

“Kings of blood, a few, but kings of the land, three. Lancelot is destined to be one of them.” 

“He will be a land king?” 

“The first one in two thousand years,” Morrigan said and now made signs on Lancelot’s body. “If he dies the British fey might as well cut their antlers off and get baptized.” She painted black circles around his nipples and a diamond over his heart. She joined them with a straight line. From the diamond she drew a line down his abdomen to his navel. This was supposed to center his power.

“What about Nimue?” Arthur continued.

“What about her?”

“She is queen. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“Of course it counts,” Morrigan replied irritably, “but a queen is not the land. Nimue, if she chooses can make you king, can do that but you are not the land.” Standing back to check her work, she decided that was the best that she could do. 

Lancelot folded his large hands on each side of her neck. “I will not be careless,” he promised her. He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. For a moment the Great Queen was somewhere else, another young fey warrior kissing her on the cheek and promising to return.

Morrigan gave him a look that was almost embarrassed. “You know I would love you if you were a swineherd?”

He grinned. “But I am not.” He reached for his under tunic. Nimue helped him slip into it. Once his head popped through the neck, he said, “I gave an oath to protect Uther’s people as well as my own. All I have right now is my name, and there are many who do not think highly of it.”

“That’s changing,” Nimue spoke up softly. Right now her heart was swelling with love. Yes, she feared for him, but this was the man she loved. The over shirt came next. If anyone expected her to be jealous of Morrigan’s admission, they didn’t understand his relationship with the ban sidhe. Morrigan needed a son, Lancelot a mother. They filled that empty place in each other’s heart.

Merlin must have understood this as well. He laid a hand on Morrigan’s shoulder and she eased back into his body. There was nothing left for her to say or do. 

Lancelot rode slowly out the gate to face the Blood Knight. Across his left shoulder was a shield that Nimue insisted he carry. A suit of mail replaced the long cloak he normally wore. This from Morrigan. Every emotion inside of him was stilled and quiet. Nothin interfered with his thoughts or distracted him from this purpose. All of his senses were awake and being used. Carden’s Hound sniffed the wind. Oldenfield was near. The Blood Knight rode casually out of the trees towards the road. Death did not need to hurry.

Everyone including Uther and Inge were on the battlement watching the two men approach each other at this almost leisurely pace. Three strides away the Blood Knight spurred his stallion and attacked. Blocking Oldenfield’s first strike with the shield was not difficult. The two horses spun around each other, and if either one stopped there would have been broken legs. Both riders broke opposite the other and came back around with swords meeting in a clash of steel.

Goliath stumbled. Lancelot rolled off his back and sent the gelding away from him. Oldenfield tried to run Lancelot over with his stallion, but the fey warrior grabbed the stallion’s bit and head and twisted it hard. The stallion stumbled and tried to lunge upwards before falling on his side. Oldenfield leaped to his feet and moved into the attack. Lancelot gave ground. 

Pressing shield to shield testing muscle. The Knight switched shield for sword and crashed his weapon into Lancelot’s shield and dented it. The strike drove Lancelot down hard on one knee, but he lunged upwards and swung Moralltach around and split the Knight’s shield in two. Startled by the destruction of his shield, Oldenfield threw one of the pieces at Lancelot’s head. The fey warrior knocked it aside with his sword. Stalking the other man, he brought Moralltach back around and met the Knight’s sword in a clash of magic. 

Fearing he was now at a serious disadvantage, the Knight gave ground, but he was not finished. Pointing his sword at Lancelot, he spoke dark words and a creature from hell appeared between them threatening Lancelot. It charged and reared on its hind legs to savage him. Lancelot used his shield to protect himself; Moralltach was useless against the thing. Roaring fiercely it came down hard on him. On the battlement the two women who loved him most showed their fear. Nimue grabbed Kaze’s hands, while clutched the top of the battlement.

He reacted instantly. Calling down his own dark magic, he sent lightning into the flaming demon. The creature screamed as it was entangled in the Druid’s magic. Oldenfield never hesitated but ran for his horse. Within seconds he was galloping away hard from Pendragon castle while the fire demon was sucked into the darkness of Merlin’s magic.

Lancelot stood up and looked around. The Blood Knight was gone.  
Nimue was the first one out the gate, and she ran straight into his arms, but he didn’t trust anything right now and kept her behind him. Letting his eyes sweep everything before him, he had to accept that nothing was there, but he didn’t trust it. People and fey were now swarming around him. Some were even patting him on the back. It was an odd experience.

Relenting he smiled and kissed Nimue. 

Morrigan and Merlin stood on the battlement watching them. “He’ll try to take him from ambush,” the ban sidhe finally said. 

“I think you are right.” 

“We need to kill him.” 

“No. You can’t do that. Lancelot would never forgive you.”   
Morrigan looked up at the Druid and frowned but stayed quiet. “He’s a warrior, my dear, raised by an evil man who used him against his own kind. Lancelot has come a long way in regaining what it is that makes him fey. If you take this from him you will lose his trust.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the story of Morrigan's two sons is myth. Adair was the Oak Lord. Lancelot is Ash folk...it would be something framilar to her.


	34. A an Aisling, mo mahc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imbolc brings life back to a dead land.

Imbolc was upon them and the Blood Knight had simply disappeared. No one believed for one minute that he wouldn’t return. But Morrigan had other things on her mind. Her latest vision reinforced her belief that Lancelot would be crowned a sidhe king.

Neither Nimue not Lancelot had ever seen the ban sidhe so excited. Hot water and a tub was filled for him. He was literally scrubbed by Nimue, his hair washed and a tunic of white was produced for him to wear including doe skin leggings. White horse hide boots that fit to his knee completed the suit. A wisent robe covered his shoulders for the walk to the ancient standing stones. Fey and mortals followed as Merlin and Morrigan showed him to the stones. Nimue as polished and clean as he walked at his side.

Within the standing stones were torches burning brightly, and a second circle of cleared sod had been prepared at the center of the stones, and within that circle was an alter stone. Four beautiful women in green stood around the alter stone, Lancelot recognizing Bridget from the tree.

She extended her hand towards the alter stone. Morrigan at his shoulder said, “Lie down, your head towards her.” Lancelot did as he was told. “Merlin, behind Fodla. Nimue, stand beside Eiru, and I will stand with Banba.” She looked to Bridget to see if she had it right. Bridget smiled.

This time instead of having his skin nicked to bloody a knife, Lancelot felt gentle fingers massage his scalp relaxing him. The scent of burning wood teased his nostrils. 

“A an Aisling, mo mahc,” the goddess whispered.

The great deer opened his eyes on an empty landscape. Nothing lived here. Even the sky was washed out and colorless. Rising to his feet, he snuffed the air but could smell nothing but dry dirt. Trotting forward, he bugled loudly but he could hear nothing. Not even the whisper of a breeze touched his ears. Looking around with dark blood shot eyes, the great stag threw his head back and bugled again. Still nothing.

Time did not exist in this dead world, but the animal lived by instinct and so driven he continued searching for more of his kind. No water, no food, no mate…he needed to keep looking.

The third time he threw his head back and bugled, he was answered by another stag. Pricking his ears forward he watched as another great stag trotted before him prepared to do combat. Dropping his head, he met this new stag in combat.

Hooves tore up dirt and clouds of it drifted around them. Equally matched both great deer battled on in eternity. Neither weariness nor thirst nor hunger ceased the battle. Across time they battled until they came to the edge of a cliff. Refusing to surrender the first stag lunged forward and drove the second stag off the cliff. Gazing down at his falling enemy, the stag watched as it was swallowed in a Charydbis of chaos. 

Looking around the stag stamped his hoof and bugled, but all he heard was silence. Craving water he went in search of it, but no scent of moisture reached him. Stamping his hoof again he was surprised to see a foot at the end of his leg. Indeed, the bare leg was human. 

Fodla appeared before this very wild Cernunnos and offered him a cup of water. The cervid eyes studied her a moment before taking the offered water and pouring it down his throat. Now he wanted to mate with her. Fodla used her magic to stop him. Twice he tried to force his way through her magic, but realizing he could not do it, he stopped and waited. The beautiful gown turned to strips of light and blew away. He watched them fly off like birds. Fodla touched his chest and brought him back to her. 

“Anois Ullmhaímid an Talamh,” she murmured softly and urged him to kneel. He dropped to his knees and closed his eyes when she mounted him. The beast roared. 

When his senses returned to him, he was alone again, but the world now had color in it. The sky over his head was blue and there were clouds in it. Water flowed and the soil was dark and rich…alive but waiting. 

Banba appeared with a bowl of wild berries. Looking at this man who still wore the antlers of Cernunnos, she smiled and offered him the fruit. Hungry he accepted and ate all. The juice was sweet and stained his lips. He would have loved more, but Banba laid her hand upon his chest and brought his attention back to her. Just as Fodla’s gown had vanished in a dozen colors, so too did Banba’s gown. Darkest of greens and brightest of yellows flashed before his eyes. 

“Am do na foraoisí filleadh,” she murmured and kissed the sweet juice from his lifs.

Hunger gave way to the urge to mate. Kneeling, he offered her his hand and helped her mount him. This time the man drew it out as long as he could, but the sweet fire eventually shot up his spine and settled in his brain. When he came back to his senses Banba was gone but behind him was a forest and a meadow with waving grasses. There was a gentle breeze blowing and clouds moved across the sky. 

Lancelot gazed up at those moving clouds and smiled. Eiru appeared and in her bowl was wild boar and venison. Lancelot ate the tender meat and found it filling. When he finished he looked at the beautiful woman and watched her gown flash away like birds in flight. He offered her his hand, and she came to him. He would have taken his time making love to her, but she laughed and took him into that sweet moment when there was no turning back. 

He was alone again on his knees, but he did not need to look behind him to see that it was complete. The dead world was alive. There were meadows and deer grazing in them; wild ponies ran on the ridges, and wolves sang their lonely songs. He could hear and smell it all; he didn’t need to look.

When he opened his eyes Bridget was standing before him. A flame glowed around her and for a moment he was afraid, but this was not the fire of death. This was the fire of rebirth. When she touched him he burned but not with pain. When their bodies joined everything caught fire. He burned; she burned. His past was burning away. 

This time the passion that boiled through him was almost too much. He feared he would not be able to survive it. Then it was over. 

Lancelot opened his eyes. Of the four goddesses that had mated with him, only Bridget was present. She was smiling with her hands folded in front of her. Three dark shapes appeared outside the ancient circle and entered the ring. Lancelot recognized Oengus who was grinning proudly at him. He rose to his feet as the sidhe king in the scarlet robes approached him.

“I am Bodb Derg,” the sidhe king began, “I am high king of the Tuathe de Danann. Welcome King of the Brits.”

Nemglan grinned as the gentle rain fell on Rath Goll. The small goblins were dancing around singing. Pym found herself being able to call up an apple out of thin air. Magic was returning returned to the fey.

The walk back to Castle Pendragon was a celebration. The Irish sidhe were gone, but the fey warriors were all feeling their oats. Magic was returning and the fauns were sprouting finer antlers. The Tusks were particularly handsome with their strong jutting jaws and sharp tushes.

A feast of every type of meat and grain appeared in the courtyard and all were welcomed, even Uther who needed to know how was he supposed to address the new fey king now. And was Lancelot’s oath still valid. Lancelot’s oath was still valid. The British fey would not abandon their friends. With a cup of mead in hand Lancelot assured the mortal king that his word was his name. The mortal king accepted a cup of magically brewed drink, and he could not remember a finer drink. 

Later that night in a world of their own creation, Nimue and Lancelot made love. Eternal spring with the scent of roses around them, and a bed of soft grass beneath them. Passion rose slowly, tenderly, with so much love in their hearts that it seemed impossible to contain. Nimue couldn't understand why he looked at her started laughing softly. Running his thumb gently over her lips, he claimed them one more time before collapsing on his back. 

“I don’t deserve this,” he finally said while staring up at the sky.

Nimue, on one elbow, stared down at his face and said, “But we need you, and if you get some peace out of it, all the better.”

He smiled and pulled her down for another intoxicating kiss then he heard someone calling for them. It was the last voices in all eternity he expected to hear. “I told you they here!” Madra olc announced excitedly. 

Clothes were quickly donned as ten small demons and Squirrel appeared. “How?” Lancelot asked. “How?”

Nimue laughed and said, “How did you find us?”

“Follow light.” Madra olc explained and wrapped his arms around Nimue’s knees. 

One and Two, armed with sticks, sat in the grass beside Lancelot. Squirrel sat in the grass beside them. “Not bad,” the boy said as he looked around. “Not bad at all.”

"There you are!" Pym;s voice reached them.

Nimue laughed at the pained look on Lancelot's face. "This was supposed to be for us ," he muttered under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A an Aisling, mo mahc means A Time to Dream, my son.  
> “Anois Ullmhaímid an Talamh - time to prepare the land  
> Am do na foraoisí filleadh - time for the forests to return


	35. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time behaves differently in the world of the fey.   
> The Blood Knight has returned with an army  
> Change is in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fey time is going to play an important part of the story for Nimue and Lancelot.

Arthur, Guinevere and the men with them gazed down at the combined camps of Abbot Wicklow and Cumber with horror growing in their minds. The Blood Knight was back and he had men with him. This was now personal for him. Not waiting to be seen, they raced back to Castle Pendragon. Nimue, Lancelot and the fey warriors had been gone for two weeks, and Arthur was beginning to fear they weren’t coming back.

Arriving back at the castle, they hurried to find Merlin. “Where is he?” Arthur demanded angrily when they found the druid. “That killer in gleaming armor is back, and he’s brought his friends.”

Merlin knew exactly where Lancelot and Nimue were; they were in the world they created, and to them only a day had passed. Merlin had seen no reason to disturb them, but this changed things. Returning to his room where no one could see him, he opened the door to their world. Entering it, he closed the door behind him.

Finding himself in a meadow of spring flowers, some of them the rarest flowers in Britain, he knew his daughter was close by and in a creative frenzy. Following the perfume of creation, he found Nimue and the fey women preparing a grand meal in a place of alters and steles. They had visitors from the Brug helping with the magic lessons.

“You weren’t gone long,” Nimue greeted her father with a kiss and brought him into the stone garden. Roses and apple trees were in bloom all around him. Royal Irises waved their delicate heads in the sweet breeze.

“I need to get Lancelot and the fey warriors,” Merlin explained regrettably. “In the time we’ve been gone, two weeks have passed and the Blood Knight has returned with men.”

“Two weeks! It feels like a day,” she answered anxiously. “I think he’s at the loch with his dobharcu. Come.”

Merlin smiled and followed his daughter into what appeared an ancient forest. Created by Lancelot from his mating with Banba, it blotted out the hot sun and created cool shadows on the ground. They wound down a well worn trail until they came to a lake shaded by the same tall trees. In the middle of the lake swimming with several large water dogs was Lancelot. His solitary pet now had a family.

Nimue stood on the bank and yelled at him. “Lancelot! We have to go back!” He turned in the water and stared at her. She waved him over. With powerful strokes he cut the water towards her. The dobharcus followed. Climbing out of the water, sheets of it sliding down his bare skin, Lancelot smiled and shoved his hair back. 

“What were you saying?” he asked.

Merlin, not as befuddled by the young man in front of him as Nimue, replied, “The Blood Knight has returned and he’s brought men with him.”

Lancelot looked annoyed. “He wasn’t gone long.”

“It’s been two weeks since you left to come here,” Merlin answered. “All total he’s been gone a month.”

“Two weeks?” Lancelot asked. “How is that possible? We have only been here a full day.”

“Time works differently here. They are afraid you won’t come back.”

Lancelot waved his hand and was fully clothed in something befitting a king He was enjoying the perks of being a fey king. Looking down, he changed his mind and his attire became more rustic. “Do I need to bring men with me?”

“Wouldn’t hurt.”

Arthur was beginning to fear that Merlin was now gone too, and Uther was not looking too pleased either. When the new fey king and his queen returned with the fey druid, Uther could not hide his displeasure.

“That creature you fought is back with a hundred men,” Uther lamented angrily. “What if he had chosen to attack?”

“We are fortunate he didn’t,” Nimue answered. “We beg your forgiveness, your majesty, as we are learning how time works differently in the world of fey.” 

Uther stared at her, as if the concept of time made no sense to him. “What are we going to do about this Blood Knight returning?”

“I suppose I need to go see what’s out there,” Lancelot said and smiled at Nimue, who returned it. The mortals were about to see how different things were now.

“I’ll go with you,” Arthur said. Red Spear didn’t ask, she just took it that if Arthur went, so would she.

“ Certainly.”

Arthur was not prepared for what waited in the courtyard. The fey warriors who had returned with Lancelot and Nimue were not the ones who had left with them. These men had magic returned to them and it showed. The Tusks were once more powerful with tushes protruding from their lower jaw. The fauns were no longer spikes but now had full racks on their heads. And they were all mounted on fine horses. The sky folk bristled with power.

“What did you do?” Arthur asked Nimue.

“Balance,” Nimue answered as someone brought her a horse. Arthur continued to stare then shook his head. This was more than balance. Everyone mounted and galloped out the gate. Uther and Merlin stood on the battlement and watched them ride away.

It was dark when they reached the combined camp. Torches burned brightly and great fires drove the chill away. The Blood Knight’s camp on the right of Wicklow’s was a hundred tents. The banner of the Blood Knight, a red gauntlet on a white background, blew in the breeze. Expensive warhorses were corralled in the center of the encampment to protect them from potential raids.

Arthur and Lancelot dismounted and crept as close as they could without being seen. Lancelot was not intending to do anything but he needed to get a feel for what he would be facing. And right from the start he realized the Blood Knight’s men were not of this world. One being by a fire stood up and looked in his direction. The man could sense fey!

“We need to go now!” Lancelot whispered tersely.

Hurrying back to the horses and mounting, he barked, “Danda and Fingoll, get your queen to safety now.”

Arthur looked at Red Spear and explained, “We may have been detected. Go with them. We’ll follow at a slower pace in case we are followed.” He signaled for two of his mortal men to go with her. Red Spear gave him an adoring smile and then rode after Nimue.

Lancelot sat his horse and waited. A Tusk named Barder sat his horse close at hand. The fey now accepting him as king because of their powers returning did not want to lose him. A little magic and they were prepared to give their lives to protect him.

Two horsemen were coming. Lancelot motioned for everyone but Barder to stay put. He and his champion would face these visitors if combat was what they wanted. Two men in gleaming chain mail appeared out of the darkness, their weapons clearly visible but a fey king was not what they expected. 

Reining in sharp, the one who spoke English asked, “The name of the one we are facing? So I might tell my master.”

Lancelot smiled. “I don’t think you will have that problem. Moralltach has never missed it’s mark.” The two knights glanced quickly at one another. “This is the only chance I give you to leave on your own.”

The two men seemed to be considering it, and then attacked. Lancelot and Barder met them with equal savagery. Arthur and the men rode forward to help if needed, but Lancelot made short work of his opponent, separating the man’s head from his body in one smooth swipe. Barder’s man turned and fled. 

Keeping the head, Lancelot had them tie the man’s body to his horse and sent him back, the Blood Knight was getting a message.

Arthur could have done without the head, but the Tusks put it in a bag and Barder tied it to his saddle. “Why are you keeping that?” he asked Lancelot before riding back.

“If I had lost they would have taken mine,” the fey king answered. “It is only fair, is it not?”

“I suppose.”

No one relaxed until the men had returned. Lancelot’s trophy would be kept by the Tusks until they returned to Rath Goll, a name that Nimue was going to change to something more appropriate. Although by right they could have asked Uther for better quarters, Nimue and Lancelot opted to stay with Merlin. The only new consideration was a larger bed with a better curtain. Merlin did not mind because it allowed him to keep an eye on his daughter. There was something very different about her that he had not noticed before. Nimue was pregnant.


	36. The first battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight with Cumber finally takes place.  
> Merlin and Morrigan sense a new danger.  
> Nimue knows the gender of her baby.

Morrigan watched Lancelot pour over the reports that their spies were sending back to Castle Pendragon. The combined armies were showing signs of moving. Cumber had broken camp and was moving inland to a place called Coffer. A thousand men marched with him. For once the human king was silent and listening to his councilors. He and Arthur were studying a map of the land. Merlin had his own maps to study. The war council of men was working.

“When are you sending Nimue home?” the ban sidhe finally asked the fey king. Nimue was in danger here, and she needed to return to her sith.

“Soon enough,” Lancelot replied without looking up. They couldn’t let a siege begin. The army had to leave the castle. Maybe they could catch Cumber in the open and neutralize him. Red Spear would like that. Guinevere was practically salivating over finally meeting up with Edys.

“Everyday she is here, there are dark things being drawn to her,” Morrigan reminded him. 

Lancelot looked up. “She will leave soon enough,” he replied wearily.

“She stays because she thinks you need her,” Morrigan said with a frowned and turned away. Nimue had to leave the world of men and return to her home. There were evil and wicked things about that could harm or kill her or her baby. Leaving the strategy room, she headed towards the stairs that led up to Merlin’s quarters. She knocked once and then entered the room.

Nimue set the book she was reading down and sat up. “It’s been a few days,” she greeted the ban sidhe.

“Keeping an eye on things,” Morrigan replied and sat on the bed beside her. “How is the baby?”

“I felt a flutter today,” Nimue replied with a smile. 

“That’s a good sign,” Morrigan said. Getting serious, she said, “Nimue, you must go home now. There are dark things out there being drawn to you. Your baby is in danger.” She didn’t mean to be cruel, but the young queen had to listen to reason.

Nimue face said it all, she was afraid. Before she could respond Lancelot and Merlin entered the room. Lancelot was not happy. “You are upsetting her!” he snapped at Morrigan who jumped to her feet. 

Morrigan did not fear the wrath of a young king. She had too many years behind her to fear one now. Catching Merlin’s gaze, she said, “All of us sense it. Do not deny it. Stop thinking like a lover, Lancelot, and think like a husband and father. She will be safe at her sith. It can protect her.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Nimue spoke up and wiped her face.

“Then I tell you to think like a mother. You have already lost one. Go home before it is too late.”

Nimue stared up at Lancelot who was standing over her. The tears sprang fresh into her eyes. “I don’t want to leave you.” She saw only love in his eyes.

Dropping to one knee, he cupped her sweet face in his large hand. He didn’t want her to leave, but Morrigan was right. He had felt it too. “I will join you as soon as this is over,” he promised her. Rising so he could kiss her, he let himself sink into her honeyed lips before drawing back and releasing her. “Barder,” he said to the Tusk at the door, “see that your queen is delivered safely to our people. Then return.”

“Aye, sire,” the Tusk answered in a dry harsh voice. 

Nimue stood and gently clasped Lancelot’s strong arm. “You promise, as soon as it’s over?”

“Yes. I won’t be worrying about you,” he answered with a smile. He didn’t feel it in his heart, but there was a darkness becoming interested in them. This would keep her safe.

“I want you with me when your son is born,” Nimue said and released his arm.

“Son?” Lancelot asked, surprised by the statement. Did she really know?

Morrigan’s eyes brightened at the news, as did Merlin’s. “A son?” Merlin asked, barely containing his delight.

“I have sensed it for a day now,” Nimue admitted and smiled at Lancelot’s startled expression. A grin to brighten the night lit up his face.

“Now you must go,” Morrigan said before they got silly. “Barder?”

Lancelot did not try to stop her. “I think I will go with them,” Merlin said. “I’ll be right back.” 

Lancelot stepped back and watched as a door opened to their supernatural home. Nimue, Merlin and Barder passed through it. Lancelot turned towards the door where Arthur and Guinevere watched. “I’m going to have a son,” he said in awe.

Arthur smiled. “I heard. Sad to report that Cumber is moving again.”

Within the hour Uther, with Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot leading a sizeable force rode out to engage Cumber. The Ice King was tired of waiting and making his move on Pendragon Castle. The two armies met at River Agrona. 

Uther led the charge but Arthur stayed close by his side. Lancelot veered off with his fey warriors and hit the Norsemen in the river at the shallow crossing. Horses were quickly lost as the men fought on foot in the shallow water. Guinevere found Edys and lay into her while the other women of her crew gathered against the other sister.

Sword and shield rattled and cracked. Arthur realized all to quickly that Uther was not a good fighter. The King was unseated and managed to get out of the way before being trampled. And with Cumber looking to seize power by killing him, Arthur spurred his horse between Uther and Cumber. He met Cumber head on. 

Cumber was strong but slower. His powerful blows stunned Arthur but the young warrior refused to yield. 

Morrigan, flying overhead, saw fresh troops arriving to help Cumber. At their head was the Blood Knight. Dropping down she landed beside Lancelot and announced, “The Blood Knight is coming.”

Lancelot grunted an acknowledgement and finished off the man foolish enough to face him with a great swipe of his sword. Splashing through the water with two Tusks following, he raced up the shallow bank to confront the new arrivals. “Take their horses out and get them on foot,” Lancelot ordered sharply. A dozen more Tusks ran up the bank behind him. 

The violence escalated as the demon knights and fey tore brutally into each other. Arthur was having his own difficulty and couldn’t spare a glance at the fey. Cumber a cruel smile on his face was beginning to act like a man confident of his own victory. Uther sword in hand appeared on Cumber’s right. The distraction allowed Arthur to drive his sword into the Norse king’s body. Cumber died where he fell. 

The effect was instantaneous of the Norse; they only wanted to get out of there now that tide of the battle had turned. For the fey king and Blood Knight, the death of Cumber meant nothing. This would be to the death with no quarter given, and any tricks the Blood Knight might have would be pointless. Feeding on rage and pain, the two magical beings pounded on each other drawing blood from near misses. If one retreated, the other followed. Lancelot lost his footing for a second and slipped to one knee. The Blood Knight jerked his axe from his scabbard and swung it down hard, but Lancelot threw up the small shield attached to his left forearm. The blade cut through the bronze and leather protection, but the Knight could not jerk his blade free. Lancelot drove his sword up and through the chain mail that protected the Knight’s belly.

Roaring in pain the Knight drove his chained glove fist as hard as he could into Lancelot’s temple. Both men staggered back, and for a moment Lancelot was stunned. If the Knight had acted against him at that moment, he would have won. But the sword was buried deep in the Knight’s belly. He staggered back, blood turning the shining mail black. Lancelot's own blood dripped from his sleeve and hit the dry ground. 

Lancelot’s guard ran to assist him to his feet. The fight was over and the two leaders were dead. Blood poured down the side of his face, but he was in better shape than the Blood Knight. At least he was alive. Morrigan swooped down and joined him. “I will live,” he assured her and had someone bring him his horse.

“Your face will frighten the devil,” Morrigan remarked with concern.” 

“Then he will stay away,” Lancelot replied through clenched teeth as he was given a leg up on Goliath. Looking back at his dead enemy, he said, “Strip him. I want his armor. And any horse that has survived. I want them too.”

His order was carried out immediately, and the Blood Knight’s shiny armor was soon hanging off a captured warhorse. When Uther was ready to return to the Pendragon Castle, he rode at the head with the King and Arthur. The challenge to Uther’s throne was not over, but at least the king could rest easier that one of his rivals was now dead.

When they reached the castle, Lancelot retired to Merlin’s quarters and behind the closed door created a hot bath for himself. Shedding his clothes, he examined the bruises that were rising on his body. And he could only imagine what his face looked like. But stepping into the marble bath and the steaming water, he sighed in contentment. 

Morrigan came through the window. “I do not feel that the danger has passed,” she said and let her eyes sweep the large room.

“The world of men will always be dangerous,” he said and sank deeper into the water. “Will you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“There is a rag over there. Get it for me,” he said an pointed to some clean rags on a table by his cot. 

Morrigan got it and handed it to him. This gave her a chance to see how damaged he was. Dark bruises and red slits marred his skin on his torso and arms. Not to mention the side of his head. He dipped the rag in the hot water and then covered his face with it. “Are you going to stand there and stare at me?” he asked under the rag.

Morrigan did not answer. She turned and flew out the window. It was not the dangers of men that worried her. Something else, an old familiar was stirring. 

Arthur fought back the tears of joy that threatened his composure as he knelt before Uther. In front of man and fey the King of Pendragon Castle knighted the warrior who had saved his life. Guinevere watched with a smile on her beautiful face. A royal gown of blue looked remarkable on her. Lancelot, Merlin and the fey stood to the side giving their honor.

“Rise, Sir Arthur,” King Uther said and placed his hands on Arthur’s shoulders. “Welcome.”

For the first time in a year a great feast was prepared for the court. Fey hunters provided the wild game and Merlin the never ending wine once the mortal stock became rare. Arthur found a moment to speak with Lancelot. “I’m sorry Nimue could not be here,” he said kindly.

“It’s too dangerous for her right now,” Lancelot answered and took a sip of wine from a crystal cup. “I know I share her feelings when I say how proud we are to call you friend.” Arthur’s time with Nimue was never mentioned after their return from Ireland.

“Give her my love when you see her again.”

Morrigan, standing with Merlin, watched the two young men bond more closely over drink and shared battle. “Someone old is stirring,” she told the Druid.

“I have felt it too,” Merlin answered. 

“Do you know who it is?”

“Regrettably I do.”

“What do we do about it then?”

“I don’t know. Yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to keep at least one chapter every Tuesday, but I am a day late because of car problems.


	37. The son of Arawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana makes her appearance.  
> Arawn does not like Merlin.  
> Lancelot is taken prisoner by the Cailleach who wants his child.

Morgana let the yellow smoke wrap around her. Celia had said it would help connect to the Cailleach, but the Cailleach was now reaching out to her directly.

“This is Nimue’s final betrayal,” the voice told her. “She no longer fights for the fey, but leads them away like a coward. And now I learn she has let Carden’s dog tie her.”

Anger grabbed Morgana by the throat. That creature Nimue now welcomed to her bed was the cause of death for many fey and Abbess Nora. Traitor! Daughter of Merlin! “What would you have me do?” she hissed.

“Bring him to me, but you must hurry before he learns his powers.”

Morgana looked up. “He has powers?”

“He has powers that he does not know he possesses. If you bring him to me, he will call for Nimue to save him, then we will have them both and their child,”

Morgana thought about it a moment. “What is the best way to capture him?”

There was a long pause and then seven terrifying black hounds appeared before her. Seven hounds with human faces and a mouthful of teeth. “They will accompany you. An Ankou will come and take him away once you have subdued him.” On the ground before her a bundle of long willow branches appeared. “Bind him with these.”

Morgana picked the bundle up. Celia smiled. “You can do this, my love. You can bring down the enemy of the fey.”

Morgana looked at the terrible hounds with her and started down the cavernous path that led out of the mountain. A bridleless horse waited for her. 

Lancelot and Barder were on their way back to Pendragon castle after a night of patrolling when the hounds attacked. The Tusk warrior was killed instantly when snapping jaws grabbed him by the throat and leg. He was yanked off his horse and his head removed from his body with one bite. Lancelot was dragged off his terrified horse, but no lethal snap ended his existence. He reached for his dagger, but one of those terrible mouths bit down on his wrist. And fight as hard as he could the hounds quickly had him pinned. Blood and saliva mixed and dripped to the ground. Unable to move with the black hounds holding him down, he could only watch as the young woman approached him with a bundle of willows in hand. She was calling on magic to disarm him, to hold him down while she bound him with the willow branches.

One of the hounds moved off his legs and she secured his feet. She wrapped another around his thighs. Lancelot could better see her now. She was the girl from the abbey, the amber skinned girl. The hounds held his arms in their mouths while she bound his wrists behind his back. A long branch was wrapped around his ribs and secured his arms to his back. No fancy escapes. Lancelot was not one to ask stupid questions and kept quiet, but she was unusually thorough. She made a noose around his neck and secured it to his bound arms behind him. If he tried to move his head, he would strangle himself. Bloody saliva dripped off his chin from a split lip.

Finally Morgana looked at the monster who had lured Nimue away from her people. “What magic do you possess?” she asked cruelly and grabbed a fistful of his hair to turn his head. The Ankou was coming but she had a few questions she wanted answered first. “What charm did you use to bewitch her?”

Lancelot didn’t know what answer would satisfy her, so he spoke only the truth. “I am the land,” he replied and made himself as comfortable as the twines permitted. “We complete it.”

Morgana suddenly struck him as hard as she could. “This is for Abbess Nora,” she hissed. She hit him again. “That was for raping Nimue. You bastard!” She hit him harder. “That was for Gawain!” The Ankou approached them. “I hope she cuts your heart out!” Morgana hissed and moved back as the Ankou turned Lancelot over belly down. More blood and saliva hit the ground. He grimaced as the creature bent his knees and secured his ankles by twine to his wrists. Then he simply picked Lancelot up with no effort and carried him dangling to his cart. The red-eyed horse snorted curiously as the Ankou tossed Lancelot into the bed.

In a realm beyond the world of men a king of the Tylweth Teg felt the tremor in the land. Fey blood, blood related to him, was being spilled. “There you are,” he murmured with satisfaction. 

When the horses returned without their riders, Arthur and Guinevere, Merlin and Morrigan went looking for them. A dozen men accompanied them. They found the remains of Barder, minus his head but nothing of Lancelot. 

“What happened here?” Arthur asked, afraid of anything that had killed Barder and taken Lancelot captive.

Merlin sensed a presence. The force that knocked him off his feet was real, solid and furious. “Where is my son, you bastard!” the Tylweth Teg king demanded furiously.

“  
Samhain, don’t!” Morrigan cried and jumped off her horse, placing herself between the angry fey lord and Merlin. Even the sidhe in Ireland knew of the hatred between Gwydion and Arawn.

“I haven’t gone by that name in lifetimes,” the fey king growled less menacingly at the ban sidhe.

“That was your name one time,” Morrigan replied with more tenderness in her voice. “It has been a long time.”

Merlin, struggling to sit up after being power driven into the ground by magic, looked up at Arthur and said, “Allow me the pleasure of introducing Arawn.”

“Where is my son?” Arawn growled dangerously. “That is his blood on the ground. It called to me.”

Merlin climbed to his feet and said, “After all the years he was with Carden, and only now you feel him?”

Arawn whose resemblance to his son was uncanny glared at Merlin. “I did not know he was missing until I found his mother and her people dead.”

“Recently, I presume?” Merlin taunted his old enemy.

Arawn stalked towards the druid and hissed, “I have forgotten none of your crimes, Gwydion. I remember all of them.”

Arthur dismounted and sided next to Morrigan. “Does no one like him?”

“Merlin has made many enemies,” Morrigan answered thoughtfully. She would not interfere unless they actually came to blows.

Merlin did not want to fight Arawn; he would lose. In stead he said, “We are looking for your son, now. His horse returned without him.”

Arawn dropped to the ground and pressed his hand into the dirt. Arthur watched and realized that but for the beard and gray hair, Arawn and Lancelot bore a striking resemblance to one another. “Rachet hounds,” the once god of Great Britain said and rose to his feet. There was a woman with them, odd creature.” He turned to Arthur. “Your kinswoman.” Arthur recoiled at the thought his sister had resurfaced now. 

“You don’t know that,” Arthur replied defensively.

“But I do,” Arawn retorted. “She’s joined with Andraste. Rumors to me, but now truth.”

Andraste! That was not good. Not good at all. “Do you know where they went?” Merlin asked hopefully.

“They came and went in magic,” Arawn answered irritably. Snapping his head around, he eyed the druid and said, “You are behind this.”

“Not directly,” Merlin answered. “Your son and my daughter about to be parents. He has recently become king of the British fey. But that is only my guess.” Arawn stared at him in disbelief. “I know it surprised me, too.”

“You knew he was my son and did not seek to tell me this?”

“I haven’t seen you for several thousand years, I had forgotten what you looked like.” Merlin lied. But he clearly remembered the last time they fought. Merlin had gotten away by the skin of his butt.

“And you?” Arawn shot at Morrigan. 

“My heart clouded my thoughts. I love your son as my own.”

Arawn was in a cruel mood but withheld most of the venom he had in his heart. “Let us hope does not suffer their fate.”

Morrigan hardened her emotions. Arawn was right. She had not been able to save her sons. “I have done my best to keep yours alive.”

“Do you know his name?” Merlin asked interrupted them.

“His mother left and never told me when he was born,” Arawn answered. “She was fading away from her trees.”

“Carden’s people cut her tree down and burned it,” Merlin said ruefully. “Carden kept Lancelot alive because he could track other fey. He was a frightened child and did what Carden told him to do.”

“Is this Carden alive?”

“My Nimue killed him,” Merlin answered with a proud smile. “Lancelot repaid her a hundred times over. He will be a better king than you or I.”

“No one was as foul as Gwydion,” Arawn growled. 

“Perhaps,” Merlin answered. “Right now my daughter carries his son. I want to find him for her. For the fey.”

Arawn turned away, his great shaggy head lowered. “His blood cried out to me. My son.” 

Morrigan laid her hand on his shoulder and said, “Help us find him.”

Arawn turned to face her. “Where do we begin?”

Lancelot awoke still bound in a cold dark place. The floor beneath him was hard rock, and he could smell the remains of things that his mind told him he ought to be afraid of. A slit of light pierced a crack in the cavern wall high over his head. That perfect beam of radiance was the only thing he had from his world of light. There were things around him that were not living but were also not dead. With his sense of smell bombarded by the rancid odors around him, and darkness his constant companion, the only thing he had that he could count on was his hearing. Something was coming. And as try as he might to keep his fears under control, whatever it was it did not move like anything he was used to. His first instinct was to call out for his lover, to plead with her to come help him, but another instinct kicked in. Whatever had him must never learn of Nimue.

The thing step-step-stepping on a count of eight entered the space with him. By now Lancelot’s heart was racing. And what he saw in the dim faded light was a terror he had never imagined in all his life. A creature like a giant spider stopped before him and ran one of its thick hairy legs over his body. He closed his eyes and fought down a yell when the thing touched his head.

Unable to hold down the panic, he yelled, “No!” and lurched back as best he could from the thing with him. The spider creature moved closer and used that long hairy leg to hold him down. Pressed flat on his back, Lancelot prayed it would be a quick death. And all he could think about here at the end was Nimue and his son. A son he was never going to see. Tears slid down the side of his face just before a blinding pain shot through his body. An appendage of the spider’s had pierced his belly and the spider was now feeding on blood and magic.

The agony was almost unbearable but Lancelot bit his lip to keep from crying out. When the creature had finished with him, he was weak, weaker than he had ever been. Lying on his side alone, he could feel blood sliding down his skin. Closing his eyes, he did not see the small spider tapping its way across the floor. It came to the pool of his tears and briefly explored them. Lancelot opened his eyes and found the small spider right in front of him.

“Do you want to hurt me too?” he whispered to the small creature. It was a ridiculous comment, but the realization this was to be his end was spirit crushing. The spider eventually crawled away. An ant attracted to the blood felt his way forward until it found the tempting dry pool. Lancelot could not see the ant but he sensed its tiny spark of life. He had never imagined he was destined to be food for the smaller things on earth. With nothing to do, he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gwydion and Arawn literally hated each other. Nimue and Lancelot might find themselves in the same situation as Festus and Moreii


	38. In Limbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancelot is moved to Rugen's court  
> Arawn goes to visit Nimue

Arawn crouched down and laid his fingers over the dried blood. It still called to him in a way none of the mortals could understand. Morrigan knelt beside him and laid her hand over his. “He’s still alive,” she said, offering hope when her own instincts were despair.

“Are you certain she is pregnant?” Arawn asked softly.

“Yes.”

“Then she must be warned,” he replied and stood up. “He’s bait for her.”

Arthur never thought he would ever see the inside of a fairy mound, although Morrigan told him the sidhe call it a sith. Whatever it was called, they were being shown by one of the bird sidhe to a garden where Nimue spent her time gardening or playing with the otters. Her little demons waited on her hand and foot. 

Arawn could see right away why his son was attracted to her; she was a beautiful woman. A strange little screamer shrieked when it saw Morrigan and Merlin and ran towards them but then stopped. “I don’t know you,” it said and took a step back.

Nimue, a basket of cut flowers under her arm, turned and smiled. “Morrigan! Father!” Surprised that Arthur was with them, “So much unexpected company.” Her gaze eventually settled on Arawn. “I recognize your face.”

“You should,” he answered kindly and moved forward. “Apparently my son and I resemble each other.” A red haired woman and an ebony woman appeared. A boy raised his head behind them He could hear Arthur greeting them as Pym, Squirrel and Kaze.

“I have never heard Lancelot speak of a father,” Nimue replied and set the basket down. She could tell something was a miss and it frightened her.

“He does not know me,” Arawn replied gently. “His mother was ash folk, and although I would have given her everything, she missed her forests, and I let her go.”

“Why are you here now? Lancelot is at Pendragon castle.” Meeting Arthur’s sympathetic gaze, she asked, “Isn’t he?” 

“Lancelot is missing,” Merlin answered and moved to help his daughter sit on the marble bench beside her flowers.

“I will ready myself to help you find him,” she said and looked up at Kaze.

Arawn shook his head. “No. That you must not do. Lancelot was taken to draw you out.”

“They want your baby,” Morrigan explained and sat beside her. “Once we bred gods, but that was a long time ago. Your son will be more godlike than any fey born in a thousand years.”  
Nimue heard what she was saying, but her mind was roiling around the thought Lancelot was missing. “I need to go with you,” she persisted in her daze. 

Morrigan caught her by the chin and made Nimue look at her, “ Nimue, it would destroy him if you were captured and your baby harmed.” Smiling at the bewildered young queen, she said, “Your first duty is to protect your child, his child. If he does reach out to you, or you sense him, you must let us know. Nemglan has left the bird sidhe with you. Send one of them to me.”

“What about your trick, you know, touching the dirt and speaking to him?” Arthur asked curiously. 

Nimue looked up at Merlin. “Should I try?”

Morrigan did not know if it was a good idea or not. What if they found him being skinned alive? “I want her to try, but what if we see something we shouldn’t?”

“An acceptable risk,” Arawn replied, “if my lady is agreeable to it.” He was not a man given to displaying weakness but he genuinely wanted to see what was happening to his son. 

Nimue glanced up at Pym. “A bowl of soil is all I need.” Pym found one of porcelain bowls in the gardening shed and had one of Nimue’s little creatures fill it with dirt for her. The small creature raised it up to her. Pym handed it to Nimue. Nimue cleared her mind and placed her fingers in the bowl. “Lancelot, do you hear me?”

No one expected to see Lancelot in such distress. His hands were bound behind his back and there was blood on his abdomen. He opened his eyes and stared at his lover. “Nimue,” he whispered. “Don’t. Don’t look at me.”

Tears filled his eyes. “I don’t know.” 

“How did you get that wound?” Merlin asked. The young king’s body and clothes were stained with dry blood. 

“A thing, a spider thing just opened me up.” Lancelot stopped. Terror filled his mind. “Nimue do not come looking for me. Promise me.”

Arawn was filled with rage. “Lancelot, you don’t know me,” he said with that edge of anger in his voice, “but I will find you. I promise.”

Merlin turned away, his mind working rapidly. Lancelot had said it was a spider thing that had attacked him. That could only mean one thing. Lancelot was being held captive by And Rasta. Turning back, he said, “Lancelot, I think I know where you are. Don’t give up hope, we are coming to find you.” Arawn looked at him with questioning eyes. “Andrasta,” he explained.   
“She did hate you,” Arawn replied grimly.

“Her grudge is with me, if revenge is what she is after,” Merlin replied with slight bite in his words.

Andrasta was furious. She had underestimated Merlin’s ability to get around her plans, and now Arawn was involved. Arriving in her true form to stare down at the drained fey king, she said, “I had hoped to keep you, but Merlin knows where you are, or rather who has you.” She nudged him with her foot. The spider god had fed on blood, liver and magic, but the fey king would heal over night. Right now he was a desperate mass of pain. And as much as she would enjoy watching him suffer, she had to move him. 

“Rugen will enjoy having you in his collection,” she said with a twisted smile as his eyes slid to the side to stare up at her. The red marks under his eyes were the color of blood. “Father will hate losing his delicious meal.”

Lancelot closed his eyes. No one noticed the small spider crawling into Lancelot’s sleeve. 

Rugen looked at the ruined creature lying on the floor in front of him. He could feel the magic radiating off him like a newly started fire. This Weeping Monk did not know the powers he possessed. Andrasta had stirred up a hornet’s nest and now they were looking for her. “Let me see his face,” he told one of his lepers. The man lifted Lancelot’s head and smoothed his hair back so Rugen could see his face.

Rugen recognized it. “You snatched Arawn’s son.

“It doesn’t change that he’s an enemy of the fey,” Morgana protested. “He murdered and raped other fey.”

Rugen looked surprised. “One of Carden’s eunuchs was a rapist?” He stood over Lancelot and studied him. He was certainly Arawn’s son. 

In spite of his pain, Lancelot gritted, “I am no rapist!”

“Be silent!” Morgana snapped and kicked him. Lancelot winced, but his body was already healing and it didn’t hurt as much. “The Cailleach indicated you would be interested in putting this piece of shit in your collection.” As an afterthought, she added, “He is consort to Merlin’s daughter, the Wolf Blood Witch. “

“Is he?” Rugen asked with more interest. “What do you want for him, or is he a present?”

Morgana smiled and said, “If the Wolf Blood Witch comes here looking for him. Let us know. The Cailleach desires the child she is carrying.”

“No!” Lancelot barked and tried to rise to his knees. “I won’t let her!”

“You have no say in this,” Morgana snapped and shoved him back down. “The Cailleach desires he goes on living, to lure the Wolf Blood Witch back into the world of men. After we get the child, you may choose their fates. I myself would hate to see anyone but the spider god ending his murderous life.” 

Rugen considered it a moment and then said, “I will take him.” Waving to his second, a deer skulled creature, said, “Lock him away in a safe place.” He wasn’t a fool, knowing full well Merlin would not come here to search for the young king.

Lancelot found himself manhandled and thrown into a dark cell with a heavy wooden door. There was a small barred window that permitted light to enter the cell for a short time each day. This was where he was going to lose his mind and kill himself. At least they freed his hands. Sitting with his back to the cold wall he watched as the small spider emerged from his sleeve. It crawled across the floor and up the other wall, where he lost it. 

Lying on his left side, he tenderly felt his abdomen where there had been a gaping bloody wound. The thing had pierced his body and pulled out strips of red flesh while he fought down the agonizing screams that even now left his throat raw. He was healing. Rolling on his back he lifted his eyes to the small barred window. The little spider had made it up there.

“Now what?” he asked the spider. There was a moment of inactivity then the spider started weaving a web. Lancelot smiled. At least one of them knew what it was doing. 

The ride to the Minotaur Mountains took them until dusk. The camp was made before Arawn left them. Arthur thought this was as safe a time as any to ask, “Why does he hate you so much?”

Merlin, fixing a hot drink over the campfire, considered it a moment and then said, “I once stole something from him and in the process killed a half fey mortal that he called friend.” 

“Who?” Morrigan asked.

:His name was Pryderi. His father Pwyll was a mortal but his mother Rhiannon was fey.” Remembering the ill he did to others was beginning to bother Merlin. Looking up at Morrigan, he said, “I bet you never knew I had several brothers.”

“I thought you were an only child,” she answered and held out her mug for some of the hot drink.

“I had quite a few, but they stayed with mother and didn’t follow me to Ireland.”

Arawn was admitted to the hall where Nimue and her people met for their great evening meal. Nimue started to rise in the presence of the great king, but he raised his hand to stop her. “We are equals,” he said. “I seek your company tonight.”

“My company?” Nimue asked curiously.

“I have never met my son,” Arawn answered. “I have a father’s fear.”

Nimue felt sympathy for the fey king. “Please join me. Someone bring us a chair. Bring our guest a plate that he may satisfy his appetite.”

“You are most kind,” Arawn replied. “I would not have expected such hospitality from the daughter of…” He stopped. “Forgive me.”

“I am aware of my father’s short comings,” Nimue replied as a chair was set beside her. “How may I satisfy your curiosity?” 

Arawn waited until the servants had food on his plate and a mug of ale was in front of him. “You honor me,” he said respectfully.

“As your presence honors us,” Nimue replied, still finding the resemblance between the father and son amazing. “How can I help you?”

“What’s he like?” Arawn asked. “Is he a good man?”

Nimue smiled. “He’s a great man, and I know he will return to me.”

“I will not stop looking until he is with you,” Arawn replied. Thinking it might be silly, he asked, “What is he like?”

Nimue’s smile grew warmer. “He has pet dobharcus that he swims with. They are as long as he is tall. His favorite is named Slick.” Arawn smiled and took a sip of ale. The rest of the night she told about their trip to Ireland. When she came to the part about Crom Cruiach, Arawn did not interrupt her, but his expression turned dark. “Do you know him?” she asked the fey king.

“I do,” he answered without elaborating. Among the old ones, paths often crossed, even while names changed. “Please go continue.” 

Nimue felt closer to her lover with his father beside her. “I am not supposed to contact him first,” she said regrettably. “He doesn’t want to upset me. He also fears they might track me if they see us connecting.”

“Wise decision,” Arawn said. 

Nimue grinned and said, “When we in Ireland, we had to get a piece of iron from St. Patrick’s Purgatory. He contacted me by touching some flowers that grew in the broken piece of cauldron. Do you know where that is?”

“Maybe once by another name,” Arawn replied.

Nimue stopped and studied his face, trying to find something different in him. “May I ask who you were? When you were in Ireland?”

“I was called Samhain. I’ve been gone a long time.”

“Do you know Oengus mac Og?”

“Once.”

“He was kind to us,” she said and remembered the darkest time of their trip. “He also saved my life and found a way to trick Crom Cruich into releasing me from his spell.” 

“Oengus can be a good friend. Tell me more about Lancelot. What does he like to eat?”

Nimue laughed. “He ate a lot of fish and shepherd’s pie in Ireland. When given the choice, I think he likes boar.”

Arawn liked Nimue. “May I?” he asked and extended his hand.

Such an odd request, but Nimue stood and permitted him placing his hand on her abdomen. There really wasn’t much to notice, but the fey king seemed to connect with the spirit of her child. “He will be powerful,” Arawn said in awe and dropped his hand. “That’s why you must stay here where it’s safe.”

“It’s all I can do to not leave,” she said and sat back down.

Arawn nodded. “If they get their hands on you, there will be no reason to keep him alive.”

Nimue frowned. “Soon enough they will know my vengeance,” she vowed.

When Arawn readied to leave, he was stopped outside of the great hall but a young warrior. “Sir,” he spoke up confidently. “Lancelot is my friend, and I want to help search for him.”

Arawn looked down at the youth and said, “Your queen may need you.”

“Not as much as my friend needs me.”  
“If your queen permits it, then I have no objection.”

Squirrel had not expected it to be that easy. “Do not leave without me. I will be back!”

When Arawn finally rode out of the sithen’s enchantment, Squirrel rode with him.


	39. Rugen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rugen has Lancelot  
> Arawn is searching for his son.

Lancelot dreamed of a thick forest and a beautiful woman with long golden brown hair dappled by the light breaking through the leaves. His mother. He had once dreamed of her often, when he was little and afraid of the men who had taken him from her. She would come to him in his dreams and tell him to be brave, to survive, that that was the most important thing he could do, that one day he would find a way to free himself.

Their tree was a large sweeping ash that grew winged seeds in the fall that he remembered chasing as a very small boy. “Survive, Lancelot! Survive!” she yelled at him when the Paladins came. Someone grabbed him and that was the last he saw his mother. He never cried, his fear of the humans making it impossible for him to shed any tears.

When he awakened his throat was parched and his face dry, but he could smell water. In the dim light of the he could see the spider web with glistening drops of water clinging to it. Standing, his eyes never leaving the web, he reached up and touched one of the drops with his finger and collected it. It tasted clean and cool on his tongue. And the spider didn’t seem to mind. “Thank-you,” he said to the small creature and sat down again. What he did not expect to see was an ant waving something white in front of him. Puzzled by this strange event, he once more extended his finger and took the white flake from the ant. A piece of a mushroom; he recognized its taste. How was it these two simplest of creatures were trying to take care of him? 

Merlin watched Arawn with an eye of understanding. Arawn, gazing out across the valley had a small silk scarf in his hand and in the scarf was some dirt that had Lancelot’s blood in it. It spoke to him in whispers from another time. The very old fey had the power to hear the cries of blood. Nimue could summon the lost souls of the dead, but she couldn’t actually hear the cries of the blood. At least he hoped she couldn’t.

Finally after whatever thoughts were tormenting him, Arawn went to his horse and mounted him. Removing the hunting horn tied to his saddle, he pressed it to his lips and blew the call of the huntsman. A dozen white hounds with red ears appeared in their midsts. Fey hounds, the trackers of lost souls. Arawn threw the silk bag into the middle of them. “Find my son,” he told the magical hounds. “Find him now.”

Arthur had never seen the likes of such animals. Raising their heads, they roared and bellowed and bugled. They snuffed the ground and the air. They ran ahead of the thundering horses. The wild hunt was on, and he was a part of it. 

“Hang on!” Merlin shouted as the greatest magic of the old ones lifted them from the ground and carried them into the sky. They were flying! The horses, mortal born, were enchanted by the King of Anwnn, and ran as if born to the sky.

The hounds led them to an ancient killing field where dark things dwelled. Arawn feared nothing that he sensed. Tied to his saddle was the weapon of the gods, a hammer that could kill with one blow and raise the dead with the other side.  
“Andrasta!” he roared as he walked up to the ancient entrance to the mountain stronghold of the spider god. Merlin walked with him. He could feel the darkness that dwelled here, a darkness he had once called a friend.

A young woman appeared before them. “Morgana,” Merlin whispered in amazement. 

“The Lord of the Wild Hunt and Merlin are not welcome here,” she said without hesitation, ignoring her horrified brother who was dismounting even as she spoke.

“Morgana,” he began, “what is going on?”

“The Cailleach wants the child the traitors have conceived.”

Arawn was not in a mood to be toyed with, “If your Cailleach does not want to deal with me, she will give my son back to me.”

Morgana smiled. “He’s not here,” she said.

“Where is he?” Arawn demanded angrily. He would take the girl’s head if she didn’t tell him what he wanted to know. 

“Ask Merlin,” she replied and disappeared.

Arawn turned to Merlin and demanded, “What does she mean?”

“I have no idea,” Merlin replied. “Surely if I knew I would tell you.”

“Then why did she say that?” Arawn growled dangerously.

“I don’t know!” Merlin shouted back at him. “How would I know?”

Arthur still stunned at finding his sister behind this, asked the only logical question, “Who would she give him to?”

Merlin looked at Arthur and then at Arawn. “There are many who don’t like me. “ A wave of panic swept across his face. “She wouldn’t have given him to Wicklow, would she?”

Blind rage flashed through Arawn’s eyes. Merlin and Arthur ran to get on their horses before Arawn took off again. They were going to ride right into Abbot Wicklow’s camp, a desperate act of a desperate father. “If he’s harmed my son, I will lay waste to all of them.”

Which was against the laws of nature. Merlin prayed Wicklow did not have Lancelot.

Lancelot stood up when the door to his cell was unlocked. Several creatures entered the space, one of them a deformed female holding a basin of warm water and a clean shirt over her arm.

“To clean you with,” she said, her voice broken by the disease that was ravaging her. 

Lancelot hesitated but then Rugen entered the cell. “Let her clean you,” he said. “You will smell better.” He motioned fpr someone to bring a chair into the cell.

“Why am I here?” Lancelot asked hesitantly. He could smell the disease that was destroying these people.

“Andrasta wants your son,” Rugen replied. “Go ahead, sit, she can’t hold that pan all day.”

Lancelot removed his bloody tunic. The hole in his belly was healed with a fine scar remaining. He bundled it up and dropped it on the ground. Keeping a wary eye on those around him, he tried not to recoil when the girl set the pan of water in his lap. Taking a sponge she washed away the dried blood and other things on his skin. When she rinsed the sponge out in the water, her hands got wet. The change wasn’t great, but there was a healing. She looked up at Rugen.

“ Continue,” he said with a nod. 

Lancelot stared at the girl’s hands in amazement. The longer they were in the water with his blood and bile, the better they looked. He lifted his eyes to Rugen. What now? Rugen dipped his own hand in the water but very little happened. He had a leper next to him put his hand in the water and keep it there. Slowly the skin turned clear. The girl placed her hand back in the water and watched the same thing happen.

Rugen watched this with interest. Clearly the young fey king had no idea he could do this. “Who are you?” he asked Lancelot.

“My mother was ash folk, that is all I know,” Lancelot replied. “I never met my father.”

Rugen studied :Lancelot a moment. “How is Merlin connected to Nimue?”

Lancelot almost told him but stopped. “I do not know.”

Rugen grinned. “I know you and she went to Ireland with him. Why did he take you?”

“I was useful.”

Rugen cocked his head. “You can be honest with me, and I can help you, but you should know the thing that did that to you, is looking for you.” Motioning for his subjects to leave the cell ahead of him, he glanced back at Lancelot and added, “I will have food and drink sent to you. I want you to keep your strength up.”

After the cell door was locked, Lancelot sat on the ground and rested his head on his elbow. He imagined killing himself when he noticed the small ant climbing up the leg of the chair with something green in its mandibles. “Grass?” he asked. Yes, or something like grass. What had he done to enchant the ant and spider?

Rugen knew the spider god was coming. He had sensed it’s probing magic looking for the young fey king. Like another god of fire from another time, monsters feed on their lives without killing them. Trapped in his cell, Lancelot could not get away, and his scream of pain echoed through his halls. Every bite of hot steaming liver made the creature stronger and more dangerous.

“He belongs to me now,” Rugen said and grabbed the spear the Boudica carried into battle. Unafraid Rugen confronted the creature that Merlin had created. As easy as slaying a dragon, Rugen pinned the head of the creature to the floor. Lancelot was in shock from pain and blood loss. His body was ripped open and half of his liver was missing. Rugen’s people s dragged him out of the cell while the thrashing spider god screamed in rage and defiance. Rugen silenced him when he cut the creature’s head off with the great sword of Achilles.

Lancelot was carried into a room with an actual bed and laid upon it. “Get me water,” the leper king ordered. This time he bathed the fresh wound himself. And Lancelot’s blood healed his hands. Stunned by what he was seeing, the leper king held his hands up to be certain he was seeing the truth. 

His minions all tried to dip their hands in the bloody water, but Rugen ordered them back. “We’ve been given a great gift,” he told them. “We need to see what works best.”

Merlin didn’t like riding into Abbot Wicklow’s camp, but Arawn would not be deterred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter due to Texas winter storm.


	40. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancelot finds a way to let Nimue know where he is.

Lancelot awoke in terrible pain. He was certain there was a gaping hole in his belly where the thing had fed on him, but there was something soft and warm beneath him. He was on a real bed. Gingerly touching his abdomen, he felt the hole and skin. He was naked. A blanket covered his lower legs. The pain brought tears to his eyes but he reached down and pulled it over him. He didn’t like feeling so vulnerable.

In the dark room, his eyes adjusted gradually. He sensed his two tiny companions as little sparks of light. For some reason their presence offered some comfort. Lying back and taking slow deep breaths, he willed away the pain as best he could. He wanted to reach out to Nimue but he could not summon her. Not without something green or rich soil. 

The door opened and Rugen entered the room with several of his afflicted, including the girl with a bowl of clean water and some dressings to cover his wound.

“You are quite the guest,” Rugen said and pulled up a chair while the candles in the room were lit. “Carden’s hound, the Wolfblood Witch’s consort, and now I learn, the son of Arawn.”

“I don’t know who that is,” Lancelot answered breathlessly as the woman bathed his wound.

“Arawn? You don’t know who he is?” Rugen asked as if surprised by the response.

“I don’t know who my father is,” Lancelot panted. The woman did something and the pain shot through his body like a bolt of lightning. “Stop!” he gasped. “Please stop.”

Rugen motioned her away, but did not have her leave until he got a look at the water in the basin. Satisfied, he sent her on her way. “Andrasta wants your baby,” he said thoughtfully,

“I know this,” Lancelot answered wearily. “She will not get him.”

“Of course not,” Rugen agreed. “I have no intention of letting that happen.” When the young king lifted his eyes, Rugen smiled. “I have no intention of letting any harm come to your son.”

“But you’re not going to let me go?” Lancelot asked, all hope draining from his body.

“The prize is your son,” Rugen replied. “I consider this a fair exchange. You stay here and your son will never be harmed by Andrasta and her followers.”

Lancelot looked at the diseased man and then at his followers. “I could fight you,” he said without much conviction in his voice. Right now he couldn’t beat a human child in arm wrestling.

“I have considered that,” Rugen said and stood up. “Hold him,” he told two big males. Taking a collar out of his pocket, he waited until Lancelot was firmly in their control before attaching the leather collar to his throat. “This won’t hurt you, but it will keep you from hurting us,” he explained. “There. Looks nice on you.”

Lancelot was freed, his hands going instantly to the collar around his neck. “Why?” he asked desperately. “What have I done to you?”

Rugen thought about it a moment. “When you were Carden’s hound you watched as my people were burned on that damned cross. You did nothing to help them.” He watched as unshed tears filled Lancelot’s eyes. This was his punishment. Except it really wasn’t. He nodded at the two men who grabbed and held Lancelot again. The fey king didn’t fight when Rugen brushed the skin beneath his eyes and collected the tears. 

Staring at his finger, Rugen watched as the skin cleared for a moment. The young king had the power to heal others. Looking up, he said, “You must be hungry and thirsty. For the time being I will have my people bring it to you.”

Lancelot didn’t want food or drink. He wanted to be free.

Arawn sat his horse staring at the Abbot with cold cruel eyes. Wicklow was nervous but not afraid, ‘he had God on his side’. He still needed to be careful, because even though his soldiers could take down every man in front of him, he would be the first to die, and he did not want that. “Your son is not here,” he replied confidentally, or as confidentally as he could pretend to be. 

“But you know where he is?” Arawn growled softly.

“I do not,” Wicklow answered. “If I had him, his head would be on a spike and his body burnt on a cross.”

Merlin closed his eyes in disbelief. Wicklow was deliberately poking the lion and hoping he wasn’t snapped in two. 

No one paid any attention to Arthur who was using the time to get a feel for Wicklow’s troops. At some point they were going to clash. The Norse troops now under the Abbot’s command wanted revenge. Letting his eyes drift upwards, he spotted a large black raven floating in the sky. Morrigan was back.

Arawn let his eyes roam the camp and did not see any sign of a burnt cross. “Understand this, church man. Any harm comes to my son, and I will personally drag you to hell.” Reining his horse around, he cantered up the ridge and out of the camp. Merlin and the others followed him.

Catching up to Arawn Merlin said, “You know you just told them that Lancelot was missing.”

“How does that concern me?” Arawn asked bitterly.

Merlin hesitated. “You were once friends with humanity.”

“I’ve learned the foolishness of those ways,” Arawn answered. “Why are you plaguing me with this?

“Wicklow will attack Castle Pendragon now.” Arawn drew rein sharply and glared at Merlin. “Lancelot gave his word to lead the fey warriors if the castle was attacked.”

Arawn moved his horse closer. “I have seen you abandon humans to their fates one time to many. You make promises that you will not keep.”

“This was Lancelot’s promise. He needs you to keep his honor for him.”

Arawn gave way to his frustration and shouted, “I don’t even know if he’s alive.”

Morrigan lighting on the ground beside the two shadow lords answered, “He is. The land tells me he is still alive.”

Lancelot stared at his reflection in the mirror. The great gash in his abdomen was closing now as his body healed. Hearing the door unlock, he turned and watched as the young woman who took care of him and her two bodyguards entered the room with a tray of food and drink. He could not remember her looking as fair as she did. She kept her eyes averted as he was nude and humans considered nudity as immoral. He didn’t care anymore. She set the tray on a table and backed away from it. “Is there anything else you need, my lord?”

Lancelot thought about it and replied. “Can you bring me some green juniper? I like the smell of it. Or pine. Pine would be acceptable.”

“I will see what I can do, my lord.” And with that she left the room and locked the door behind her. 

Standing over the tray of hot food, Lancelot picked up a chunk of meat with his fingers and ripped it apart. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until now. He smiled when his ant climbed on the table and clasped a piece, a very small piece, of cooked vegetable in its mandible and offered it to him. This was going to be a long meal at this rate. He accepted the tiny offering and sucked it off his finger. “Thank you, but I can eat faster without help.” The ant must have understood because it didn’t try to collect anything else for him. Smiling, he offered his finger to the ant and watched as it crawled on board. He placed it on his shoulder. After eating he searched for his spider and found her in the top left corner of the room. He didn’t think it wise to place the ant near the spider but it was still comforting to find her still with him. 

With nothing to do, Lancelot returned to his bed and pulled the covers over him. The ant climbed on the headboard and crouched there. He was certain inactivity was going to drive him mad. Rolling on his back he thought about Nimue. Every image of her was ripe and sensuous. He imagined her lips on his skin, her kisses melting in his. He was too wounded to act on his imagination, but if they were going to keep him locked up with nothing to, he was going to eventually act upon it.

Rugen found Lancelot’s request interesting. Sending several of his people out to find green things, he personally took it to his young guest. Lancelot stared at the requested plants but did not attempt to touch them. Rugen found that odd and set them on Lancelot’s table.

“Are they not to your liking?” he asked and took a seat in one of the chairs.

“They are fine,” Lancelot answered and got out of bed. He had been asleep and didn’t know how long he had been out of it.

“Are the clothes I gave you not to your liking?”

Lancelot smiled. “I see no point in them,” he answered. “The sidhe often go naked.”

“Your father is sidhe,” Rugen remarked casually. “I was never as close to him as I was Merlin, but I knew him.”

“I would not know,” Lancelot replied, wishing Rugen would leave him in peace. He’d be able to contact Nimue if the man would just go. In stead he said, “What is he like, my father?”

“Powerful. He and Merlin hated each other, although I suspect Arawn was the angrier.”

“Why? Why did they hate each other?”

“Merlin had a brother who desired a woman. To get the woman Merlin started a war and killed someone Arawn cared for.” Rugen could feel the unease in his unwilling guest. “I want you to start joining me for supper,” he said. “Please wear the clothes I gave you. It makes the females uncomfortable when you are unclad.”

Lancelot studied Rugen. “Your offer is generous. Are you going to let me go free?”

“No,” Rugen said and stood up. “No, you belong to me now.”

Lancelot was not going to argue or make idle threats. “Is that thing coming back?” he asked.  
“No, I killed it.”

“Thank-you.”

“Get dressed. I will be back in an hour.”

Lancelot picked up the soft pigskin leggings. Rugen left. Tossing the leggings on the back of the chair, he grabbed the green branches. “Nimue,” he whispered to her. A moment later her beautiful face appeared to him.

“Lancelot, where are you?” she asked and tried to get a feel for his background.

“I don’t know. Someone named Rugen has me.”

“I will let Merlin and Arawn know.”

Lancelot didn’t want to waste time plotting. “I miss you.”

“No more than I you.”

“Are you well?”

“Madra Olc is taking great care of me,” she answered with a smile. Lancelot looked so tired to her, but the bright light in his eyes was encouraging. Extending her hand, she reached for him. He smiled and offered his hand. Imagine their surprise when their fingertips touched. Imagine the magic that flowed around them when they kissed. The feel of her lips on his was intoxicating. He didn’t want to leave them even for air. Her hand folded tenderly around his face. For a moment he even imagined they might be able to make love this way. 

The door unlocking broke their connection. The young woman brought a basin of water for him to wash off with. Lancelot contained his anger and motioned for her to put the basin down and leave. Fearing he was running the risk of exposing Nimue to unnecessary danger, he washed off and dressed.


	41. Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wicklow is coming. Arawn is hunting. Squirrel is being squirrel. And poor Lancelot.

Nimue knew when she rolled over that he was there. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” she said and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“When the leaves die, I won’t be able to come back,” he said and kissed her on the nose.

“I sent word to Castle Pendragon that you are with Rugen. If anyone knows Rugen, it would be my father.” Smiling at his bright eyes, she added, “I’ve met your father. You’re royalty.”

“I don’t feel like royalty,” he said not about to tell her about the thing that fed on him. “Do we have to talk?” he asked playfully, the feel of her lush body against his arousing his passions. 

“I thought you would want to know your father promises to tear up England to find you.”

“I do, but I’d rather ,” he paused and let his eyes take in her full breasts. Maybe it was his imagination but they looked riper than when he last saw them. And he was certain there was a small bump on her belly. His son! “I’d rather do something sinful.”

“Sinful? A fey king who believes in sin?” She cupped his face before attacking his mouth and silencing him with a deep kiss. She could feel him swell against her belly. She drew back and teased, “Someone else has missed me.” She dropped her hand to provocatively stroke him. 

“I don’t know who has missed you more,” he replied breathlessly and kissed her soft pale throat. She smelled so good, like a cross between a sweet apple and a rose. He wondered if she tasted just as good. Dragging his parted lips down her smooth warm shoulder to her plump right breast, he took the dark nipple into his mouth and sucked on it while wickedly flicking the tip with his tongue. Oh, she had certainly missed him. He could smell her heat. 

Grabbing his head and letting her fingers curl in his thick hair, she shuddered at the rising passion inside of her groin. Then he shifted his body and let the fingers of one hand trail down her body until he found the dark hidden place melting it under his caress. Nimue squirmed as he took his time, teasing and licking until she could hold back no longer, But just before she came, he trade his mouth for his finger. Nimue grabbed his head and held them there while his tongue finished her off. This was perfection, the perfect union of a man and woman…he raised his head, wiped his mouth, smiled and an “I love you”…. then he was gone. What? Nimue sat up. ‘You bastard!’ she thought angrily and then fell back on her bed with a contented smile on her face. Damn, she had missed him.

Fearing they would be discovered, Lancelot had broken the connection. His cock was rock hard and in need of immediate attention but he thought it better to finish himself off than risk her. Wrapping his fist around his cock, he closed his eyes and imagined her full breasts and the way her face looked when she climaxed. Her scent was still on his face, and that alone was enough to keep him hard. “Soon” he thought. “Soon.” He needed this, but he needed to be with her more. Still he kept her beautiful face in his mind as he finished himself off, fisting his cock until it exploded, and hot seed splashed across his belly. He was so hungry for affection that he could have done it twice, but he stopped and caught his breath before getting up and washing himself off. Reaching for the juniper branch he connected with her for a moment and said, “I love you.” 

She smiled. The next time they needed to be in each others’ arms.

Morrigan and Squirrel watched the warriors prepare to leave Pendragon castle. If Wicklow wanted to initiate a siege, having the warriors in the field would defeat it. The fey were rallying behind Arawn who did not want to be here, and she didn’t blame him, but they didn’t know where Lancelot was, and Wicklow was going to march.

She spotted Arthur and Guinevere running across the yard with several humans following him. Scouts and rangers. They would keep an eye on Wicklow’s march and report back to them. She was about to search out Merlin when she spotted a giant crane flying overhead. He lifted his wings and settled in the courtyard.

Morrigan and the boy ran to him and asked, “What’s wrong?” 

“Rugen has Lancelot,” the bird sidhe answered breathlessly. “Lady Nimue sent me to warn you. She has also sent word to my lord Oengus.”

“Rugen has Lancelot?” Morrigan repeated in amazement. The collector had the ultimate prize for his collection.

Arawn came over and growled, “The Leper king?”

“Aye, my Lord,” the sidhe warrior answered respectfully.

Morrigan could see Arawn was thinking hard about this. “What are you going to do?” she asked curiously.

“Go get my son,” the fey king answered. The hounds appeared in front of him, eager and ready to run. The fey warriors stopped their preparations and moved closer. “I need men to ride with me to get my son back from Rugen. A dozen of the best.”

This was quickly answered by the Tusk and Skyfolk warriors. Squirrel made sure he was included. “You might fall off,” Morrigan warned him.

“I’ll hold tight,” he promised.

Arawn was concerned with his own plans and not worried about the humans, but Morrigan thought it might be wise to let them Arthur and Merlin know what was happening. Arthur didn’t say anything, but he was disappointed. The fey warriors needed one of their own leading them not him. But here he was now in charge of it all.

Merlin when told dropped everything. He had to go help rescue the fey king. Bringing Lancelot back would literally scare the shit out of Wicklow’s Red Paladines. He did not think Uther needed to know this. The bay of the hounds alerted Uther to Merlin and Arawn’s’s departure.

Squirrel clung to the neck of his pony, a big grin on his face as they flew north to the Minotaur Mountains. Merlin sitting straight in the saddle of his horse his staff firmly clasped in his right hand led the hunt. He believed he knew why Rugen was keeping the young king captive. The king of lepers was hoping the young key could undo the magic that kept the king locked in his diseased body. Rugen wanted to heal.

When the hunt landed in the ruins of a Roman era village, they found Rugen and his afflicted waiting for them. The Leper King ignored Merlin. Staring at Arawn, he said, “Andrasta’s whore brought him to me to avoid dealing with you. I killed the Spider god that fed on him.”

Arawn inclined his head ever so slightly. “I am grateful for that.”

“Andrasta wants his child.”

“So I have been told.”

“I told him that I would see that no harm came to his child.”

“And the price?”

“That he heals me and my people,” Rugen replied without hesitation. “That is why I keep him safe but captive.”

“Did he agree to this?”

“I did not give him the option.”

“Nor do I give you one. I want my son back now.”

Rugen was not going to budge. “I want my people healed.”

Merlin could see a deadlock coming. “How does he heal your people?”

“His blood and bile have turned sores to smooth skin,” Rugen answered.

“If he dies there will be no more healing,” Merlin continued. 

“True.”

“Then let us compromise,” Merlin continued. “Free Lancelot and I will guarantee he does what needs doing to heal your people.” Arawn did not look pleased but kept quiet.

“I will consider it,” Rugen replied. “I will give you my answer in two days.”

“Two days!” Arawn snapped. “I am prepared to take him now.”

Merlin extended his staff to calm Arawn. “A peaceful solution, please. Plenty of time to wage war after two days.”

“But what if they harm him?”

Rugen stood up straighter. “I give my word no harm will come to him. As Merlin said, he is no good to us dead.”

“Very well, I will wait two days only. Then I will have my son one way or another,” Arawn promised the Leper King.

Rugen, leaning on his staff, turned to leave. No one noticed the boy scurrying through the ruins following him. “Our little Squirrel is following him,” Morrigan informed the two men. “Go after him?”

“No,” Arawn replied. “His information might be useful.” Looking around at the dark gray ruins, for a moment he remembered what they had once looked like before Boudica had them burned down. “You were a part of this?” he asked Merlin.

“No, I had left by then,” Merlin admitted. “I think we can find shelter over there.”

Squirrel stayed hidden while Rugen and his followers disappeared into a ruined building. He waited a minute and then followed. They had vanished. Walking up to the broken wall he looked up at the ceiling. There had to be a way in. Searching the wall, he felt a breath of cold air slipping under the ‘wall’.

Lancelot stood up when the door opened. Rugen and several of his followers, including the girl who was looking better each time he saw her, entered his room. Lancelot backed warily away from them. “What is happening?” he asked apprehensively.

“I have to decide what I am going to do with you,” Rugen answered and sat down. “You see you have the power to heal, and I want to be healed.” 

“I would do that,” Lancelot answered quickly.

“For that I am grateful, but it seems the healing is in your blood.”

To Lancelot that meant a blade across his throat. “Are you sure there is no other way?” he asked.

Rugen smiled. “I am not a foolish man and have no intention of harming you. Contact with you has almost healed Gaea, but I want to see if there’s another way to do it.”

“I don’t understand,” Lancelot answered nervously.

“Actually I think you do understand,” Rugen replied and stood up. “I am leaving the girl with you. I am expecting you to behave like a man with her. If you do not, then..” Rugen shrugged.

Lancelot felt trapped. Rugen and everyone but the girl left the room. He could hear the door lock behind the leper king. Waiting a moment he looked at the girl. She was afraid of him. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said and returned to his bed and sat down. Rugen was right, he did know what was expected of him. The girl was just standing there with her head down. He could smell her fear.

“Come sit,” he said and made room for her. That scared her more, but she obeyed. “I won’t hurt you,: he assured her.

She looked at him with beaten eyes and asked, “I’m too ugly?”

What? “No,” Lancelot protested. Apparently she wasn’t afraid of having sex with him; she was afraid he’d find her repulsive. With the water tasting like poison, they had given him a pitcher of wine. Time to start drinking. 

Could he simply ignore her standing there? “Do you want some wine?’ he asked.

“Aye, thank-you.”

Lancelot poured two cups of wine and finished his off in a single swallow before pouring another. He handed Gaea her cup. What could he tell her? I don’t like the way you smell? I resent being forced into a union? Standing over her he finished the second cup in rapid succession. They weren’t going to have enough wine. He felt something light on his bare thigh. She was lightly touching his leg. He froze, When he didn’t say anything, she got bolder. 

Lancelot had never been so detached from his own body. Watching her hand caress him didn’t seem real. When she lightly brushed his testicles, his brain at its most basic registered it, but the part of him that was Lancelot was somewhere else.

“Is that it? I’m suppose to lay with you?”

“It is what Lord Rugen wants,” she answered and withdrew her hand. She was clearly torn between obeying her lord and not seducing Lancelot. 

“Do you even know what you are doing?” he asked cynically.

She looked up at him and answered, “I do.”

“Willingly? I have never raped a woman.”

“I remember what you have done,” she countered and lowered her gaze, her hands folded in her lap.”

He stared down at her stunned by the words. “All the more reason you shouldn’t be in here with me,” he finally said and went to pour himself another cup of wine. This one disappeared as quickly as the others. He poured another, the last of the wine. “Better make this one last,” he muttered to himself. 

Leaving Gaea sitting on the bed, he occupied the chair. He was now staring at her back. She glanced over her shoulder and then turned around. “Why are you being so difficult?” she asked, becoming less timid as the wine warmed her up.

“I can,” he replied and wondered where his small friends were.

“Why don’t you wear clothes?”

Lancelot scratched himself. “I don’t want to.”

Gaea giggled. Standing up, she disrobed completely. “Now we’re both naked,” she said.

Lancelot stared in disbelief. “I am not going to fuck you,” he said without hesitation.

She frowned. “Why not?”

“You’re human.”

“I can’t leave until we’ve fucked.”

“In order to fuck, I have to be aroused.” He gazed down at his soft dick. “I don’t see it happening.”

“I can try,” she offered.

“No.”

“Then I’m you’re company,” she said and sat back down.

Lancelot hated that as much as being sexual with her. “Why don’t we say we did?”

“Rugen will want proof.”

“What kind of proof?” an even more exasperated Lancelot asked.

“You know…stuff.”

“Stuff?” Then it dawned on him, and he hated it even more. But then he had an idea.

Squirrel hid among the treasures that littered Rugen’s realm and waited for everyone to retire for the night. He didn’t know how long he waited, but once it was quiet, he crept out of his hiding place and went looking for Lancelot. The light of a candle moving past him sent him back into the shadows to watch. Keeping very quiet he followed the man back to some rooms. Taking a keep off a hook, he unlocked a door and let a woman out. Locking the door closed, he led the woman down another passage.

Taking a chance he went up to the door and lightly rapped on it. “What now?” Lancelot barked angrily.

Squirrel smiled. “Born in the dawn….”


End file.
